


Wither on the Vine

by ABlabberingMess



Series: Hexbound [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, All mages born after the War suffer from a curse, All thanks to a certain bonely royal scientist, Appendix as first chapter, Asgore and Toriel have a very complicated relationship, Asriel is alive what?? :o, Body Horror, Chara and Reader become buddies, Corrupted SOUL Traits, Cults, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Foreshadowing, Found Family, Frisk won’t show up for a while, Gaster and Grillby are childhood pals, Gaster curses like a sailor, Gaster has (a lot of) issues, Gaster is trying, Gaster is very overwhelmed, Gore, Grillby is the lieutenant of the Royal Guard, Happy ending ain’t guaranteed folks, I guess everyone does in this fic LOL, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Is it considered a spoiler if i say that Gaster remembers RESETs, Lore & world building, Mystery, Named Reader, Narrator Chara (Undertale), Not Beta Read, Oh no is this turning into a soap opera, Oh yeah Reader was made in the true lab, On purpose too, POV Alternating, POV Second Person, Papyrus is the true MVP of this fic, Protective Sans (Undertale), Reader is SOULless ;)), Sans and Papyrus were born normally tho, Sans remembers LOADs but forgets when the world RESETs, Sibling Love, Suicide, There shall be no romance for Reader, Undertale Saves and Resets, Weird Plot Shit, Whoops forgot to put that Asriel remembers RESETs too, Will Gaster be a good dad for once?, and all the fluff, i realise I only know how to do angst and drama, itll get crazy at some point, just in case, kind of?, let’s just all watch everything Gaster worked towards crash and burn instead, man Asriel needs some therapy, not for everyone anyway, oof in retrospect the first few chapters are a bit boring, takes place in my original AU, there’s attempts at humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 99,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24928807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABlabberingMess/pseuds/ABlabberingMess
Summary: You could feel metallic blood- the mage’s blood- trickling down your boney arms, mingling miscibly with the dripping Determination seeping from your own lacerations. Red with red, liquid with liquid, will with will, they were all one in the same.*Getup!The First’s voice barked in your throbbing skull, echoing everywhere and nowhere. Their ghostly form was slouched beside you, their see-through arms desperately yanking on your shredded sleeves as they scowled and glared at the approaching Eighth.*You have to Stay Determined, you’re too close to winning to dust now!Easy for you to say, hitchhiker.You tiredly glanced at the amber star shining mockingly ahead of you, its light flickering and dimming with each LOAD.Your grip on the timeline was weakening.And you could do nothing but watch as the child raised the gleaming dagger above their head, their sick grin only widening at the sight of your misery.You closed your single socket and steeled yourself for your first permanent death.(Who says I can’t make the summary a spoiler of a much later chapter?)
Relationships: Alphys & Reader, Alphys/Undyne (Undertale), Asgore Dreemurr/Toriel, Asriel Dreemurr & Reader, Chara (Undertale) & Reader, Frisk (Undertale) & Reader, Skelebros & Reader, W. D. Gaster & Reader
Series: Hexbound [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929847
Comments: 146
Kudos: 130
Collections: Fanfiction From The Chara Defense Squad





	1. Appendix. (Character refs and lore.)

Welcome to the appendix! Here you’ll find lore, art and snippets of backstory that you may not find in the original fic. More will get added as we delve into thick of the plot, but for now it’ll only be a couple of Ref sheets (where some will be changed and altered in the future depending how much free time I have) since I suck at explaining the appearances of the characters. All art were drawn by yours truly. ;)

 **NOTE** : May become a separate piece of work if it gets too long.

(Apologies for my messy handwriting...)

* * *

**CHARACTER REFERENCES (currently revamping!)**

**FRISK**

Frisk won’t appear until later on, but they act as a suitable stepping stone for one of the biggest alterations I have for my AU, the Children of the Magnus! I’ll keep the details about the cult vague for now, or else everything I might spout out will be accidental spoilers.

*Frisk is 1.3 metres tall

*They also have asthma. It’s a headcannon I’ve read on tumblr on why they don’t seem to run in the original game. Thought it would be nice to incorporate it into this story, too!

* * *

**CHARA DREEMURR**

****

I’m sure by the story description alone you can tell how big of a role Chara’s gonna play-

*Chara never told the Dreemurrs much about their cult or about them being a mage as they had a ‘ignorance is bliss’ mentality.

*Monsters cannot tell the difference between a normal human and a mage unless they see them using magic or their SOUL is directly called out, which Chara had repeatedly refused consent to.

*Only Asriel knows of their mage status. (he was the one who absorbed their SOUL, after all.)

*Many tests were conducted on them to figure out why geraniums were growing on their body. The results came inconclusive, however.

*Doesn’t know how or why they became a ghost. One moment they were dead and then the next... poof! They’re (sorta) alive again.

* * *

 **  
  
  
CORONET**

Soooo this character is essentially the reader! They have a name (nicknames, really) and a specific appearance but don’t let that stop you from using your own imagination while reading :) this is just kinda how I interpret them looking like.  
  


Okay so I tried REALLY hard to not add anything that revealed too much. I guess the most spoiler-y part of Coronet’s ref is the Gaster Blaster design, but I think we all know that no skele oc is complete without them lol. 

*Coronet is their Font.

*Can summon only one pair of hands. 

*Coronet is 1.3 metres tall when they first emerge, reaching their adult height of 1.75 metres at age 17. (

*Cannot do blue/gravity magic.

*Their blasters are used more for blocking and deflecting attacks.   
  
~~yes they are pairing a leather jacket with sweatpants, but it isn’t the only clothes they wear-~~

* * *

**ASRIEL DREEMURR**

~~  
~~ ~~  
~~

~~Is this how one draws a poncho-~~

This is the most vague ref I’ve ever written. Literally anything about Asriel could be considered a spoiler but I wanted to draw him soooo

*Asriel’s flowers are also gernamiums, as Chara had a Red SOUL.

*Asriel is 1.4 metres tall at death and 1.9 metres tall at age 23.

*He’s technically been 23 for a couple of years already(well, when we get to this point of the story), that’s just the age when Boss Monsters fully mature, so he won’t age any further until he has a kid. (Don’t worry, he’s still able to grow a majestic beard like Mr Dad Guy!)

* * *

**W.D. GASTER**

This one I actually did a decent job at being vague and mysterious... just like Gaster is!

*Gaster is 1.8 metres tall. Not as tall as adult Papyrus but still freakish enough.

*His glasses reacts to his magic and gets attracted to his body(Like a magnet), so he doesn’t need to worry about them falling off because he has no ears anytime soon!

*Can summon up to two pairs of hands for maximum multitasking!

*All skeletons have a Font, but it’s just the Gaster tradition to have all members be named after them, even those who marry into the family get an honorary Font name.

*There are only a couple of monster families that have last names. 

* * *

**TORIEL**

****

Not much to say about Toriel other than I’ve based her upon the neutral endings where she returns as queen!

*Shes 1.8 metres tall.

*Not too many monsters like the fact that they’d have to allow the remaining two humans they need for breaking the Barrier to able to live out their full lives, causing some friction to form between the people and the crown.

*Shes much more of a thinker than a feeler.

More refs to come!

* * *

**WHAT IS MAGIC AND INTENT? (Still a WIP)  
**

**NOTE** : My magical system was inspired by the concept of Dust from His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman, a series of books that I would highly recommend to any bookworms like me! Also, you don’t particularly need to know all of this to get into the story, its just a fun little headcanon I made up that will only be mentioned a couple of times.

The origin of magic and the essence of SOULs were never scientifically researched until Dr. Lepus, the previous Royal Scientist and the proclaimed father of SOUL Studies, made it his magnum opus to look into the composition of the culmination of one’s being, dedicating centuries of his career to perfecting and corroborating his theory through a series of experiments and demonstrations, eventually becoming the most studied major among monsters decades after his retirement.

Dr. Gaster, the protege of Dr. Lepus and the creator of the CORE, continued to expand and develop his predecessor’s findings once he had resumed his position, opting to include the harvested human SOULs to further delve into the idea of SOUL traits and human magic, hoping through his discoveries a possible substitute to breaking the Barrier would be uncovered.

Magic (scientifically coined as the _madeis quark_ ) is a flavour of elementary particle which only limitedly interacts with normal matter through certain circumstances entitled as _Intent_. It is found everywhere and anywhere in the universe, but is peculiarly in concentrated bundles in the chest area of conscious creatures. 

It has no charge, has negligible mass and can only been detected by either directly observing it as Intent-manipulated bullet patterns or by the ionised air particles that is left behind when magic is used.

The aforementioned phenomenon known as Intent is the will of a sentient being, whether it being monster, human or otherwise. How madeis quarks react to these ‘aims’ depends on the context of the Intent itself. If the person wishes for the quarks to form what we refer to as ‘everyday magic’, then it would do so by combining with each other to become _madetrons, (_ they too have no charge but are nearly infinitely times larger than their constituent quarks, their atomic radius rivalling those of transition metals _)_ subatomic particles when coalesced into one ‘mass’ can be bent and contorted into a giant lattice. These lattices can then be malleably bent and contorted to imitate physical matter such as bones, water,fire and many more, all which monsters have dubbed for thousands of years as _Bullet Patterns_.

Intent can be further categorised and allocated into ‘emotions’. If one had the desire to use magic to harm another, then the madetrons will interpret it and change the state of the lattice, making the manifested magic more ‘bodily’ or more ‘physically attuned’, which in turn would become harmful and possibly fatal to the unfortunate adversary.

The same goes for ‘good’ emotions. If two or more monsters get into a ENCOUNTER and truly don’t wish to injure one another, the madetrons will interpret that and make the lattice more loose and ever so slightly transparent, so when one monster gets hit by the other’s magic over the course of the ENCOUNTER it will only chip at their HP, sometimes not damaging said monster at all if the assailant has complete control of their abilities.

Green magic is a curious case as it is guided entirely by benevolent Intentions. A monster must only think positive thoughts and must also be adept in their magic for them to have the potential to heal. As a complication years of extensive training and on the field experience must be had in order to ensure that the user will be in the right state of mind to treat major injuries.

These altercations are always invisible to the naked eye, but when observed under a TEM (transmission electron microscope) vibrations and movement can be seen between madetrons as they react to shifts in Intent.

*Magic was referred to as SPELLs before and during the War, but since then most monsters have seemingly forgotten to call it that way and over the years the King learned to reluctantly let it go. Even he knows that the Dreemurrs are notoriously and historically known for being uncreative namers.

*The Children of the Magnus, however, still use that term.

* * *

**COLOURS/TYPES OF MAGIC**

**NOTE** : This shall also be updated gradually, it all depends on the amount of free time I have! 

Mages can only specialise in the magic of their main SOUL Trait. e.g a mage with a cyan SOUL can only specialise in cyan magic, which in this case would be called the Semblance of Patience. Each Trait have a passive, active and elemental ability. Following the same example aforementioned a cyan mage would have access to cyan magic attacks that cause damage to moving targets as their active, turning themselves invisible for varying amounts of time (it depends how skilful they are)as their passive and controlling water as their elemental ability.

Monsters, however, can master a range of different colours, but elemental magic only comes to a limited few species, usually the elementals (obviously) and the boss monsters. As monsters have white SOULs and the Trifecta of Empathy as their main Trait they all have white magic as a default, but can over the years learn to become proficient in three types or even more.

Monster magic is also much more varied, where some subspecies/individuals have powers only exisiting to themselves or to a small pool of people, theorised to either be because of the unique makeup of one’s SOUL or years of practice and application. Case in point, Gaster’s floating disembodied hands used for communication/ multitasking. 

Mages can also combine their Semblances with each other, creating stronger and more varied types of magic. e.g Kindness and Justice together make up Courtesy, where its active is a lime-green shield that can also be thrown at enemies while its passive is greater healing along with the added effect of temporary heightened senses. Elemental abilities are not affected. The strength and duration of combined Semblances depends on the relationship between the two casters, the better the bond, the more effective the fusing will be. 

**Semblance of Patience**

  * Active: During an ENCOUNTER the caster can conjure cyan obstacles to inflict damage on moving targets.  
Passive: Can turn oneself invisible, can be further enhanced with ITEMs.  
Elemental: Water.



**Semblance of Justice**

  * Active: During an ENCOUNTER the caster can change the colour of oneself and/or allies’ SOULs into gold. The affected gain heightened senses likened to apex predators. They are able to see much further, gain night vision (if they don’t have it already) and have the accuracy of an atom clock. All yellow mages carry a magic-infused weapon of their choosing to make the most use of their abilities.  
Passive: Can better predict what their adversary’s next move is and thus can be better prepared, can be further enhanced with ITEMs.   
Elemental: Electricity.



**Semblance of Integrity**

  * Active: During an ENCOUNTER the caster can change the colour of oneself and/or enemies/allies’ SOULs into blue. The affected’s sense of gravity is at the whims of the caster, allowing their inertia to be controlled. They can be made lighter and heavier, hence making movement either easier or much, _much_ harder. They can also be lifted into the air with relative ease, depending on their weight. If one is strong and talented enough telekinesis can also be acquired, granting them the ability to carry one or more object(s) from far away.   
Passive: If a monster/mage is experienced enough in their craft one can essentially become a lie detector, can be further enhanced with ITEMs.  
Elemental: Ice. 



  
**Semblance of Perseverance**

  * Active: During an ENCOUNTER the caster can change the colour of a target’s SOUL into purple. The caster can bind and constrain the target to move in only certain directions of their choosing or, if one was powerful enough, can restrain movement in its entirety. Said target can, however, break free if they struggle long enough, or if their Determination surpasses the caster. The strength and elasticity of the binds will increase as the skill of the user does.  
Passive: Can enchant ITEMs to last longer. E.g. that packet of Oreos that’s about to expire; enchanted ITEMs gain a violet sheen.  
Elemental: Poison. 



**Semblance of Bravery**

  * Active: Opposite of cyan magic. During an ENCOUNTER the caster can conjure orange obstacles that inflict damage if the target does not stay in motion when passing through them.  
Passive: Can turn oneself invincible, can be further enhanced by ITEMs.   
Elemental: Fire.



  
**Semblance of Kindness**

  * Active: During an ENCOUNTER the caster can change the colour of oneself and/or enemies/allies into green. The caster forms a shield around the target’s SOUL, preventing them from fleeing but also protecting them from all projectiles as long as the person is facing the correct direction. Blocked projectiles have the potential to be parried and deflected back to the adversary if the shield is angled correctly.   
Passive: A must for monsters. The caster can heal physical wounds/SOUL damage. The strongest healers can bring people back from the brink of death while the weakest can still mend fractured bones. Can also be infused to ITEMs and food, granting them healing capabilities.  
Elemental: Nature.



**Semblance of Determination**

  * Active: Grants the wielder the ability to control time though SAVEs and RESETs, but only the most Determined of all SOULs can do so. Red mages and those with an abnormal amount of Determination in their SOULs are the few who can recall timelines and anomalies (or at least gets major feelings of déjà vu). Monsters, however, cannot cast red magic as their magical bodies cannot handle an excess of DT, and if (stupidly) attempted the unfortunate monster will experience... unforeseen consequences.   
Passive: Can temporarily boost STATs and morale, quite literally emboldening others to stay Determined.  
Elemental: Unknown.



**Semblance of Empathy**

  * Active: Monster exclusive semblance. White magic is highly versatile and varied, taking the shape of whatever the monster chooses. Can be intertwined with green, blue and orange magic depending on the Intent of the monster.   
Passive: None.  
Elemental: None.




	2. Early to the Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Project Cherub goes haywire.

The Royal Scientist stood amongst his followers, his arms folded sprucely behind his back while his brows scrunched in anticipation and worry. The skeleton’s cluttered mind was in a frenzied haze as his phalanges nervously fidgeted with the cuffs of his coat.

He had not a wink of sleep in recent weeks, subconsciously deciding that one with such intellect such as him absolutely did not need to ‘rest his, _bleh,_ eye sockets’ or ‘take a chill pill’ no matter how many times his eldest told him to. He did not have the patience to listen to any of the short skeleton’s quips nor the levelheadedness to take his pranks in stride. Nevertheless, he was a fruitful asset, one he hoped would one day take his place. Sans was his protege, after all.

... Where was he again?

He blinked out of his stupor just as one of his followers, an armless lizard with pallid, slit eyes and a wit just as sharp, approached him with a questioning look. “Doctor,” the monster said, “Cherub is ready for the fluid exchange. Has been for the past minute or so, actually, unless you would like to brood for a little while longer?”

Pah, even without looking at the short stack he knew his expression was a sly, wry one. He trudged on to the control panel without humouring the follower with (well deserved) expletives, setting his eyelights onto the screen. Symbols that only he and a few select others could comprehend flashed across said screen, _LV, HP, ATK, and DEF_ his mind supplied, his gaze narrowing at the numbers that appeared alongside them.

Monster children tend to have lower STATs, albeit with a few ~~anomalies~~ special cases on both sides of the spectrum. A typical child would experience gradual increases as they mature and shed their stripes, reaching a halt at adulthood. Different subspecies of monsters had different specialties, with Boss monsters such as their majesties having high ATK and DEF, while the Dog monsters that mainly resided in Snowdin and the surrounding perpetual woodlands having mastered their ATK over the centuries trapped underground. Skeletons like him, dubbed as “The Undead” by the inhabitants of the Surface, had put all their ‘points’, as Sans would call it, into magic. As far as the scientist knew, which was a lot, only he and his son had the means to teleport at will.

He still will never dub them as ‘shortcuts’.

But the lifeform that was growing in the tube was not a typical monster child. Typical monster children are not born from an immaculate, dreary laboratory. Typical monster children were not infused with the substance that allowed human SOULs to persist after death. Typical monster children were not created for the sake of the kingdom, destined to eradicate humanity off the face of the Earth.

It was easier to not consider them a monster child at all.

For they had no SOUL.

And what was a monster without a SOUL?

He hadn’t noticed the error messages popping up on the screen as his followers frantically dashed about, trying to resolve the issue they did not know how to fix. He hadn’t noticed the lizard hastily pulling on his sleeves with his teeth in an effort to get his attention. He hadn’t noticed the resounding _crack_ as the liquid contents of the tube that harboured the kingdom’s last salvation spilled out and pooled onto the cold, hard tiles.

He blinked, and there he saw lying unmoving on the floor was a undraped skeleton child. No one moved, no one could move, for what else could’ve been done? The attempt was a failure, _again_. But they’d just have to try _again_ , wouldn’t they? They had the entire Underground relying on them, everyone’s hopes and dreams were all dependent on them and them only. They couldn’t just _give up_. Wingdings Gaster and his followers couldn’t afford to.

The lizard had stopped pulling to gape at the sight before him, his jaw slack and eyes wide as a quiet whimper escaped him. His clawed feet was tapping on the tiled floor fervently, his tail downcast. The only sound discernible from the rumbles of machinery was his grumbling, a poor attempt at restraining his anger.

The others were in similar positions, dismayed, disquieted and desperate. The child remained motionless, their eye sockets as hollow and dark as vantablack.

The scientist’s mouth was in a thin, unwavering line, his posture slouched from months worth of stress and fatigue, and for just a second Gaster saw that it was his son, weak and powerless in a foetal position, left eye socket alight with Patience and Justice, that was lying on the ceramic floor.

He shook his head and blinked once more. _No, never again._ He promised he would be a better father, for the both of them. He’d get home tonight to his eldest reading FluffyBunny to baby Papyrus, to his horrendous lime coloured couch, where he could finally relax and reread Fermat’s Last Theorem for the fiftieth time.

Hmm, that sounded like a wonderful idea.

He was walking towards the limp ~~failure~~ child when a thought had occurred to him. Why hadn’t they turned into dust? Even without a SOUL they were still made out of magic, _his magic_ , so then why haven’t they-

His breath caught in his proverbial throat as he noticed one of the child’s phalanges (edged like talons, he noted) twitching ever so slightly, trying to take hold of anything it could touch. Their head that was face down just seconds prior had tilted slightly to face the scientist.

With their visage no longer obscured Gaster could finally get a good look on them. They had features archetypical of a skeleton monster: Rounded, chiseled cheekbones with the texture of smooth porcelain, a 8 paired ribcage(that had no SOUL to protect) and a small tailbone that most other species of monsters did not know the existence of.

But different from himself and his sons, the child had only their left eye socket, their right being nothing but a slight dent into their skull. They had no mouth and no bottom jaw, their upper teeth curving into their cheekbones in a crescent outline. The child stared blankly at him and his accomplices, a single faint and fuzzy eyelight straying from one monster to another as they took them in.

Gaster let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a weak smile tugging at his nonexistent lips. This was... certainly better than an outright botch, he supposed. The plan was for the child to go through accelerated development in body and mind with green magic they had managed to liquify through pressurisation. But perhaps this could work in his favour, one way or another.

He slowly held out his left hand in greeting, his smile turned gentle and welcoming. Behind him his magic twisted and twirled into his second pair of hands, his only way of verbal communication with the rest of the monster population.

_“Welcome, Cherub, to the Underground.”_


	3. Baby’s First Puzzle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherub takes baby steps.
> 
> Gaster finds that he quite enjoys children when they’re not petulant, clingy infants.

Gaster eagerly decided that the first course of action was to test Cherub’s intellect and mental capacity. After a proper bath and a set of clothes being begrudgingly passed underneath the gap of the bathroom door of course.

Even if they came out a little bit earlier than initially planned they were still _technically_ his offspring. Although his youngest had the shorter end of the stick when it came to the academics, he had still inherited his father’s knack for constructing and solving puzzles. If the pattern remains continuous and unchanged, this child should be no different.

But being SOULless does add in a couple more variables into the equation, who knew if one without the capability to feel emotions could have a knack for anything? Or had a need to explore things such as interests and hobbies at all? _Well, there’s only one way to test his hypothesis_ , the scientist mulled.

They took from crawling to walking easily enough, so why not go from basic maths to matrixes? Differentials? Perhaps he’d have to check how well they could work with their hands, see if they had any potential in engineering and robotics, he needed a helping hand in maintaining the CORE’s air ducts after all...

Ah, he was really getting ahead of himself, wasn’t he? The last thing he wanted was to relive his high school science project. He shuddered at the memory of his peers and teachers leering at him with barely muted muffles of laughter.

he still hadn't set foot anywhere near that dilapidated, rotting edifice since graduation.

He had waltz them to a room with a security camera implemented in the ceiling, one that Gaster and his followers could use to watch the child from a separate room. (And one that desperately required rewiring, he’ll have to get Inermus to fix it...)

It was a crude space, really. No windows, no tap to drink water from, just walls with off-white paint scraping off from wear and tear and a single coast redwood table with its supplement creaky chair.

The skeleton child clumsily stepped in the room, their porcelain-like feet making rattling, clattering sounds against the ceramic floor. With only one eye socket and no mouth the scientist found himself unable to read their expression, the slight twitches and spasms from their phalanges and brows as they absorbed their new surroundings only indicating that they were indeed, not a statue. How revolutionary.

He tried to erase the mental image of his son’s shit-eating grin every time he had a joke at the ready, hands in the pockets of his lab coat, his Cheshire smile somehow widening even further when the older skeleton retorted with half-hearted reprimands and not so half-hearted warnings of confiscation of his ketchup stash that he _knew_ he was hiding underneath the workshop table back in New Home.

“skull-ture. " Said shit-eating skeleton would pun, his smile so wide it would cause the edges of his eye sockets to crinkle. It was one of the rare, genuine ones that he would so sparingly see.

He could only hope to see it more often when they reach the surface, where he could take both of his sons stargazing, where he could introduce them to the wonders of the Surface world, where he could get a second chance at being the father he was so reluctant and unwilling to be.

~~Perhaps then the scars wouldn’t hurt so much.~~

With a curt nod and a glance behind him he left the child to their own devices, leaving on the table a faded Rubik’s Cube that his eldest had found while rummaging through in the Dump (much to his chagrin) and a 20-piece jigsaw puzzle that fitted to look like a pixelated version of the King’s castle, puzzles that should be straightforward enough if the child was anything like him. _Just something before we move on to the technical and practical._ He pondered with a click of his tongue.

He listened to the clinks of his shoes as he paraded trough the laboratory halls, lost in his thoughts not for the first time that day. He wouldn’t deny that he felt like a flighty child at Gyftmas, sneaking and invading their parents private quarters to hassle and fuss about Santa or what presents they had received from their friends and love ones. He hadn’t felt this giddy since the CORE was built, and how long ago was that? Weeks? Months? _Years_? He always lost track of time when he put his full attention to his work, often neglecting taking care of himself(and his sons) when he could have another well-earned pat in the back from Asgore and the knowledge that he once again brought hope and solace in this bleak, desolate place they called home.

Gaster wasn’t one for ego, not really. Perhaps it may seemed that way from a superficial prospective, but those close to him (which wasn’t many nowadays, he hated to admit that he became rather aloof and recluse once he got the promotion from Aide to Royal Scientist, and his pessimistic, gloomy attitude towards socialising and mingling didn’t help in the slightest.) knew that he did the things he did for the betterment of others, the sacrifices that had been made along the way to ensure the success of his Magnum Opus had nearly cost his life and the relationships he had with his family.

Some say that his workaholic tendencies were his way to mourn and grieve the loss of his dearly beloved.

~~he never denied the claims.~~

His ancestry came from a long line of mercenaries, generals and leaders, a long line of strong-willed skeletons that protected the weak and vulnerable. The Gaster household made a name for themselves as trustworthy soldiers for the Dreemurr Royals, and during the War were sworn with their lives to fight for the Monster Kingdom. _And look where that got us._

Wingdings wasn’t an exception. _“Strong-willed’s my middle name!”_ he used to proclaim in a fit of snappish teenage rebellion. His magic manifested at an early stage of his life, at the prime age of three and a half. His pair of ghosty, summoned hands nearly scared his kindergarten teacher out of her wits, if that shrilled screech from the fire elemental was anything to go by. His abilities, however, proved to be more of use in the field of Science than in the battlefield. (God, was his son finally getting to him?) His surplus hands proved to be most handy (Shit, he really is.) when he was doing team assignments by himself, gradually adapting to be constantly multitasking, whether it being writing or grabbing a fifth Nice Cream from the freezer.

As such, he put his mind into excelling in whatever subject the schools were willing to allow him to study. (The most peculiar being Knitting. When asked why he would simply reply with a shrewd shrug and a _“My parents wanted free clothes.”_ ) He worked his way up from intern to Royal Scientist in a manner of three years, his predecessor recognising his brilliance when he had showed the old bunny the blueprints and schematics for the CORE.

_No,_ Gaster thought, brought back from his trip down memory lane by the sight of a door in front of him, slightly ajar from the lack of attentiveness by one of his followers. _Now is not the time to reminisce. I have a new future waiting for me._

The door creaked, squeaking against the ceiling that was just a little too short to encompass the whole thing. Gaster noticed the odd lack of murmurs and whispers that would usually accompany his assistants when they were with each other, their ministrations instead were all on the screen that showed a top-right view of the room Gaster was in just minutes prior. He narrowed his eye sockets suspiciously at them and then at the grainy footage, his posture rigid and ginger. Why were they so... eerily quiet?

He got his answer when his eyelights focused on the puzzles that laid neatly on the wooden table. The Rubik’s cube had been solved, all six sides displayed proudly as if it were a trophy on top of the, _also assembled_ , jigsaw puzzle. He saw Cherub sitting, in a rather(very) uncouth manner on the table with their legs crossed, eyelight ogling intently and curiously at the chair. The scientist’s nasal bone scrunched up in distaste, his childhood memories of etiquette classes resurfacing from somewhere deep, deep inside his skull.

At least it could be remedied easily enough.

* * *

_Where the hell is he going?_

You brows(?) furrowed in a agitated frown as you watched the terrifying colossal of a monster man simply leave you with nothing but a nod and a glimpse in your direction. What is _that_ suppose to mean? _Oh, welcome to the world, little one! I am your father!_ (Probably) _And I shall explain nothing about why you are here and what you are for while I soak and drench you with pleasantly smelling water in this huge... whatever the hell this is!_

Ugh, did he not think you would understand him? Is he going to continued to coddle and smother you while you struggled to make sense of how and why you exist? How about the rest of his freak show, the monsters that were too apprehensive to approach you? (Or were they too apprehensive to approach Twigs?)

Yeah, thats what you’ll call him. Even when he finally gives you his name(if he ever does, since he seems to be so keen on being ambiguous) you’ll most likely still use that moniker, just to spite him!

And what’s with those weird chimes you’d hear when you get close to Twigs and his gang? You could hear it being the most concentrated towards the centre of their chests, growing steadily quieter when you walked away from them. The resonances seemed to change in pitch and amplitude depending on the bearers’ reflective moods too, with each of the monsters you (sorta) met all having distinctive tones and chords.

You looked down at your own sternum, straining all your senses to listen to anything that you could make out... which was a whole load of nothing. No peals or bells or anything to call your own. Your frown deepened as your phalanges dragged along where you should be sensing _something_. Your scowl might as well be permanently etched onto your face by now.

Either you just couldn’t listen to your own chimes or there’s something severely wrong with you.

~~Or were you wrong to assume you were alive at all?~~

You weren’t sure how long you’ve been standing there when you noticed two... things on the... bigger wooden four legged thing in the middle of the musky, stale room. Wow, you really needed a couple of lessons whenever Twigs decided to show his scarred, fractured face again. Maybe a good punch in said face will entice him to let you out of... wherever you are.

You sauntered cautiously towards the objects in question, phalanges out and ready to swipe at anything that decided ambush on you. (Admittedly you didn’t know what lashing out at Twigs or any of his buddies would do, those disembodied second pair of hands of his definitely did not look like they were just for show...)

Your interest was piqued by a cube that was placed there, silent and obedient, waiting to be used for... something, you smartly guessed. It appeared to be made of smaller, differently coloured cubes that were mismatched across the toy’s(?) sides.

It fit comfortably in your palm when you picked it up, the stickers that made up the cube’s colours were soggy, peeling and washed out, as if it went through a long swim like Twigs forced you to do. _Perhaps it did... Maybe that what these are for?_ Was Twigs teaching you how to bathe properly? Out of all things to teach you... Where was the water then?

Your eye socket widened in wonder when you noticed that the partitioned cubes could slide across each other horizontally and vertically after you nearly tore off a corner piece by tugging a little too hard. With your curiosity urging you on your phalanges glided across the interlocking pieces. _Left, right, up, right, down..._

Your mind was virtually in a trance as you guided the cubes towards to their rightful positions, and soon enough the top side of the cube was a complete layer of eroded white. _Up, down, down, sideways..._

You snapped out of your daze when all six sides were ill-matched no longer, looking even worse than before with how roughly you handled the poor thing.

You, however, did not feel a inch of sympathy for the cube, nor did you really feel any sort of contented satisfaction from solving it. You just felt... numb and vacant. Unfulfilled.

Were you supposed to feel something? Anything?

You tried to feel at least a little proud of yourself, emphasis on _tried._ You could detect that there was _something_ deep inside you trying to establish a link, but it seemed to stop suddenly at your sternum, reaching for something that was severed and frayed at the edges.

~~What’s going on...?~~

You instead focused onto the other puzzle before you could delve too deeply in your thoughts, wanting to engross yourself in something that wasn’t so downbeat. They were giving you a headache, anyway. Your clawed phalanges brushed against the cardboard pieces, tracing the edges as you analysed the caricature painted on them. Would they form an image if joined correctly? Could they even form various images from different combinations?

You felt drunk on this... curiosity, the need to know _more_ , the need to see what would happen if you solved the puzzle, the need to see what would happen afterwards with Twigs and the others. Were you going to see them again? Were they observing you right now, curious of you as you are curious of them?

You couldn’t get enough of it.

The puzzle was solved in a matter of a minute, _too quickly_ for your tastes. The pieces merged together in an array of blues and purples, pixelated stalactites hung in the ceiling glowing and glimmering in iridescent radiance, casting an ethereal, regal aura onto the castle. It was beautiful, but you would have appreciated it a lot more if you didn’t once again feel desensitised and unfeeling. Your curiosity had been sated, hadn't it? Then what didn’t you feel pleased?

Maybe that smaller, four legged thing next to its sizeable counterpart could bring it back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, no one is gonna be a ‘big bad’ in this story, just heavily flawed characters that make too many mistakes to be justifiable. (sounds kinda like the same thing though, innit?) 
> 
> Gaster isn’t very mentally stable right now, and as aforementioned in the prologue he hadn’t had a wink a sleep in a while, so expect him to get easily flustered and frustrated with Coronet /Cherub as the days drag on. (Maybe some oopsies may happen, uh oh.)
> 
> And at this current point in time Sans has not quite become his assistant yet, he’s still in cool-leg finishing his double degree in quantum physics and electrical engineering. (At the appropriate age of 10, no less)
> 
> Paps is roughly around 4 years old, if any of you are curious. 
> 
> (Asriel and Sans POV will happen eventually, so stayed tuned ;))
> 
> Frisk WILL appear in this story later on, I’m not sure how they’ll fit in my AU quite yet but they will keep their ability to RESET and play around with our beloved cast a bit. After all, no one would remember, right? 
> 
> There will also be a bit of world building in this story as well as a deeper dive into how Intent affects monsters. A lot of things will be expanded actually, such as the concept of SOULs and how exactly they work, the different types of magic that exists, mages and their significance in the plot along with full backstories for characters like Undyne and Alphys ;))
> 
> (I live off comments cause it’s corona time and I’ve been stuck in my house for months with no social interaction ;;


	4. Getting To Know Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster writes in his diary.
> 
> Cherub has a history lesson.

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_Day 5,_

_Progress is being made much faster than I anticipated. I saw Cherub running along the halls leading to the Retiring Room earlier this morning, nearly colliding into one of my assistants. I had not expected for them to fully grasp their motor functions this early in, and I’ll have to readjust their lessons to fit accordingly, a more compact, thorough curriculum that will better accomodate them. It may not be much longer until they manifest their magic if things escalate at this rate, and I am not too keen on losing my life’s work in another explosion._

_I also stressed my worries to my assistants about their early emergence, fearing that it would have an adverse effect on their physical, mental and magical capabilities. I had them closely monitored for the first few days since their birth, having their STATs checked twice a day and a healthy dose of green magic every couple of hours to ensure they wouldn’t abruptly fall down in the middle of their classes. It’s now safe to say that my concerns have been misplaced. Over time they will learn to adapt and overcome the disabilities in their vision, there are species of monsters who live by depending on their other senses, after all. Their inability to speak can easily be rectified with a few demonstrations in sign language, but I also have not ruled out the possibility of them learning to communicate telepathically through one’s SOUL, if a being without one is able to do so._

_What I am most thankful for, however, is Cherub’s intellect. After a series of puzzles I had given to Sans during his infancy I have concluded their intelligence has not been impaired by their early birth. They possess an understanding in academia that no other children their age would have, my lessons in mathematics have so far proved that. Physically they seem to be at an equivalent of 6 years old, the age where monsters should start their education. But similar to Sans when he was the same age, Cherub is capable of comprehending higher difficulty equations that incorporate imaginary numbers and variables. I ponder the idea of Cherub developing an interest in quantum mechanics, just as my eldest did. In hindsight I realise they are alike in ways that I can’t help but see the resemblance. Perhaps I should introduce a couple of Astronomy books into their classes as well, see where that will go?_

_But only time will tell if SOULless beings can have such intuitions. I can only assume Cherub will be like most children, innocent, naive and easily mouldable into what is required of them, albeit with a few petty protests here and there. But even children have their own ambitions, their own ideas of who they will be and what they will achieve. Will they be the same? Will they be complacent and agree to what we have planned for them? Or will they revolt and decide what is right for their being? And if so, what we will do then? Will we allow such behaviour to fester, allow Cherub to live the life of a normal monster? Would they be able to find companionship in this kingdom’s people, in myself and my sons?_

_I know some of the things I do are morally questionable, and if found out_ _would be ridiculed and scrutinised by all. But that_ _comes with the title, written in bold in the contract. Maybe I’m just overthinking this, considering the what ifs. For all I know Cherub could be nothing but a emotionless machine that listens to orders.  
_

 _No. I’ve already gone too far to doubt myself. I should not take in the considerations of a person that I know would not and could not care for me. I must from now on refrain from projecting myself or my children onto Cherub. They may be a child but they are SOULless, they from a definition standpoint aren’t even alive! This project_ will _be a success, no matter what the cost.  
  
_

 _On another frame of discussion I have noticed Cherub’s seemingly insatiable curiosity. They are constantly pointing and silently asking for explanations on anything and everything their eye socket can see. The laboratory equipment, myself,_ _my assistants and even the coffee table have been subject to their questions. I have been more than happy to indulge them for the past few days but I know my patience will wither and wear in time, especially_ _if I continue to neglect my own wellbeing.  
  
_

 _I have seen this behaviour in the Crown Prince when he still was that buttercup, he too was brimming with enquires. Is there a correlation between the two?_ _He had been SOULless as well, reborn after I injected a flower from Asgore’s garden_ _with liquid Determination I had acquired from the harvested human SOULs. He was desperate to feel something, anything, and as a result of_ _the Determination he was resurrected with allowed him to become an anomaly. That is_ _where the differences lie. He had not been born SOULless, and so knows what it’s like to have and experience emotions. Would Cherub have this crave? Is this why they are so inclined to be inquisitive? To experience the closest thing they could have to sensation?  
_

_I will have to further look into this.  
  
_

_Nevertheless, I will continue with their classes and see where that’ll lead us. If the type of magic they will manifest is what I’m theorising it to be then..._

_Well, let’s just say I am quite thrilled to be here to witness it._

>end entry   
  


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Gaster let out a drawn out sigh as he glanced up, dragging his phalanges down his face and eyeing the unassuming clock that hung above his PC. _3:25 am_. He was now in complete darkness, his eyelights the only thing illuminating the disorderly office. He did not need the lights on, however, as centuries living below the earth have allowed monsters to evolve and gain night vision, and for those who had no eyes, echolocation. For hundreds of years of being sealed underground they spent relying on their sight and fire magic, exhausting the kingdom’s fire elementals to the point of falling down. When the newly appointed Royal Scientist had proposed his (admittedly irrational, at the time) plan of the CORE to the King and the people, a generator that could create bundles of electricity through the geothermal activity of the mountain, they had rejoiced and embraced this new yet absurd idea, even if the possibility of it ever being completed was little to none.

Funny how a little bit of Hope could turn things around. 

He languidly stood up from his chair, wincing when he heard a couple of his bones crack in response. He was falling to his old habits again, staying long nights at the lab and not returning until early in the morning, where he would at most get an hour of sleep before returning to his workplace to resume his projects. It was only hours into his shift already did he realise that he, once again, left his sons to fend for themselves. At least Sans had Grillby in his Contacts if he needed any assistance with getting to school or taking care of Papyrus, and he knew that he gave his old childhood friend his personal some number of years ago, so if any of his children were in any real danger the fire elemental would surely give him a call. 

There’s _nothing_ to be worried about.   
~~  
Except for his relationship with Sans, which was already hanging by a thin, _thin_ thread. He could only wonder if the young skeleton still considered him his father. He probably has already decided on leaving him with Papyrus in tow the moment he has the means to do so. ~~

He trudged his way to the coffee maker at the corner of the room, his phalanges deftly selecting his preferred tastes as his summoned hands found his favourite mug among the mess that was the coffee-stained table. Neither he nor his assistants were too prone to cleaning. _Not very scientist like_ , the skeleton’s half-asleep mind supplied as he repressed the urge to yawn. The mug was a simple, white ceramic with the design of different species of flowers speckled across it, courtesy of the green-thumbed King himself. He never bothered to know the names of the flowers and Asgore’s detailed explanation on their meanings and significance went from one proverbial ear to the next. His real and only reason for liking it was that it was Boss Monster sized, nearly needing four of his hands to firmly grasp it. _The more coffee the merrier._

He suddenly hissed and withdrew his hand when he felt scalding hot liquid pour down onto his phalanges. _Shit, another spillage that I know won’t be cleaned._ He boney brows irked in annoyance at the cup of coffee (but mostly at himself) as he gritted his teeth in pain, inspecting the unfortunate hand for any burns. _Just simple green magic should be enough._

 _  
_He really should stop monologuing in his head when he’s doing something as important as filling up a cup of Joe.

After (more) attentively grabbing the mug with a pair of his ghost hands Gaster made his way to the infirmary. He’s been to it more times than he would care to admit, all from minor accidents that date from ungraciously slipping off newly mopped floors, having beakers explode in his face to crashing straight into a wall in a rush to get to work.

At least they would be anecdotes to tell.

Gaster never really took notice on how eerily creepy the True Lab could be when it was dark, it seemed almost... foreboding, as if the scientist was walking towards his demise instead of a first aid kit. He instinctively straightened his stride, magic humming as his senses locked onto anything that could be a danger to himself. ~~Even though in the back of his subconscious Gaster knew it was himself who was the real danger.  
  
~~

_  
CLANK!_

The air became charged and ionised as his magic roared to life, thunderous and powerful. His Gaster Blasters materialised by his side in a puff of light, their maws opened to reveal bright, dangerous indigo energy, ready to fire at will.   
  
  
There was a shuffle of hurried footsteps and the chiming hum of another’s magic, not as loud as his but enough for him to feel it. He felt the world around him fade into nothingness as a ENCOUNTER started between him and his opponent. His breathing was ragged and laboured, he had not found a reason to make use of his Blasters in a while and he could feel his SOUL straining to keep them summoned.   
  


With an ENCOUNTER initiated he could get a good look on his adversary. He felt his mind refocus from its frantic, fidgety state into one of surprise when his SOUL revealed exactly who he was fighting. 

  
  
In front of him revealed no one other than Cherub themself, they were a few feet away from him, looking worse for wear with their bagged eye socket blazing with Determination and Perseverance. They were in a defensive position, their phalanges fiercely holding onto a long, jagged bone the size of Gaster’s femur, the tipped edge facing towards him. Their expression was of terror and confusion, looking akin to prey who had caught a glimpse of a predator.  
  


 _Fuck_.

* * *

  
You couldn’t sleep.  
  


You tossed and turned on your hard, wooden bed, blanket having long dropped onto the floor. Your head just _couldn’t_ shut up, it swam and swam in an endless ocean of thoughts. You glared at your pillows, the ceiling and then at the door hoping that they might have the solutions to your increasing list of problems. Soon enough you contemplated whether or not you should just give up and wander around the lab instead, your boney legs were already halfway off the mattress, anyway.   
  


You have been doing a lot learning for the past few days. A LOT of learning. Twigs, after a whole lot of tedious puzzle solving, finally revealed himself to be named W.D. Gaster (you’ll still call him Twigs in your head, though. It just rolls off your nonexistent tongue a lot easier.) and you picked up the others’ names from passing conversations. One of them, the orange armless lizard monster who appeared to always be by Twigs side, Inermus you remember him being called, became your personal ‘caretaker’ when the big boss himself wasn’t around, which wasn’t often, you noted.  
  


They didn’t exactly explain how you came to be, probably because they presumed you wouldn’t ‘comprehend it’. They really only showed you the incubation tube (what was left of it) you came from and explained, through annoyingly blatant pointing and coddling, a very barebones (heh) rundown on how you were ‘made from magic, as we all are’, so... Essentially close to nothing. It was better than nothing _at all_ , you supposed. You at least didn’t claw at them and demand a detailed written report like you were initially planing.

Yeah. It could’ve gone way worst than expected.  
  


From then on the days seemed to pass in a the blink of an eye socket. You were given class after class in Monster History and Mathematics, usually taught by Twigs himself. He would constantly test you at the end of each lesson, asking you questions and making you write down the answers on a piece of paper that he later grade.   
  


The subjects themselves were pretty interesting, actually. You learned of the different types of monsters there was, from Boss Monsters to Froggits and how you, as a Skeleton, were one of the species that were heavily endangered. Twigs looked... downhearted, despondent even when he explained that particular topic, he absolutely refused to look at you and instead looked down and watched his phalanges turn the book from one page to the next. He knew you wanted to ask, and you really did, but he moved onto the next species, the fire elementals, before you could further push him.   
  


You’ll have to ask him about that sooner or later.   
  


Two days in he explained to you the reason why monsters were all living underground: Humans, smaller in stature but almost stronger in every way. He had a strange expression on his face again as he taught, and it got only more and more troubled and vexed when he got to the really dark, gritty stuff: The accusation that monsters where trying to kill humans and absorb their SOULs, becoming gods on Earth, the massacre that was the War Between Humans and Monsters and the hundreds of years of trying to survive underneath a suffocating mountain.

” _There was many of us, before the War_ ,” The scientist explained, his face downcast as he signed. “ _We lived in relative peace with the humans, but separated and segregated for the most part. It was King Asgore’s grandfather who made that choice, thinking that there would be less violence if the two races were kept isolated from each other. It was as close to a treaty he could get with the human leaders. There was some trading and mingling, yes, but only under the shade of the moon where there were fewer eyes that could watch and criticise. At times, however, there were travelling thieves who pillaged our villages and took our women and children for... nefarious reasons_.” You watched intently as Twigs let out a shaky breath, his phalanges twitching and tapping on the table as he tried to regain his composure. You felt tingle of magic in the air.

” _The thieves would kill some of them for their dust and sell them to merchants or healers, while some were kept like animals to be bred. The humans have some sick idea that we could be used as medicine, a remedy for all sicknesses.”_ A humourless laugh escaped him, appearing as if he was experiencing some phantom pain from what he was spewing out of his mouth.

You were feeling... only ever the more curious. You let him catch his breath to continue.  
  


“ _The situation only got worse during King Asgore’s_ _reign,_ ” He further elaborated. ” _There was gossip among the humanity population, whispers and murmurs that monsters were congregating and forming a plan to overthrow humanity’s monarchies, spouting out accusations of slavery or outright extinction. We were one kingdom while the humans were many. How could we even possibly accomplish such a thing?_ ” Twigs definitely did not look like he was entirely there in the room with you anymore, his eyelights staring far beyond what you could see. You squirmed in your seat, slightly uncomfortable but still _very_ interested. What exactly has this monster been through?

“ _Thus, the war started. And in five short days we lost_ ,” He was gripping the book now, his phalanges tearing into the frail, aged pages. “ _Monsters are entirely made of magic, making us subject to one’s Intent. If a human had the Intention to end one of us they could easily do so_ _with anything their fleshy hands could EQUIP, even toy weapons could dust us if the person wielding it was malevolent enough; Humans, on the other hand, are mostly composed of organic material. They have organs and all sorts of grotesque bodily fluids. Their magic are all concentrated in their SOULs, it’s part of why they’re so much stronger in the first place_.”  
  


You _really_ wanted to be able to speak right about now, were these SOULs the chimes you’d hear when you get near a monster? If you couldn’t hear your own then could Twigs? Are the chimes magic translated into some weird, harmonic song unique to each monster and human?

  
Oblivious to your inner thoughts the skeleton kept signing, he probably still would if you randomly decided to leave the room (not that you would, not when you were finally getting answers) and he seemed to almost be in autopilot as his hold on the book that has been long forgotten to him tightened. Was he... Dissociating?   
  


“ _My father was there, one of the many soldiers that went to the frontlines to fight. He was only 16 at the time, forced to stall his education for the war effort. Everyone knew that the battle was lost before it even begun, how could we not? Our only advantage was our extensive use in magic, and even then there was a group of humans that had that same gift: Mages, humanity’s most powerful protectors. We simply were no match for them.”_ You could only hopelessly watch as Twigs ripped off a page, then another, and then another...  
  


Should you do something to stop him?   
  
_“We were a kingdom of a proud 3 million, and in a matter of a few nights that was reduced to a mere 500,000. And it only kept decreasing once we got sealed.”_ He swallowed, staring off into the distance as he considered his next words _. “_ _And so the war was lost and King Asgore was forced to surrender, in order to avoid the_ _complete elimination of the rest of our people he was forced to accept the humans’ one condition to let us live: To never see the Sun again.”  
  
_

He blinked suddenly, coming back to reality and making you jolt in your chair, it was as if his weird spacing out just now never happened. His eyelight was sharp but faint as he released his grip from the book, staring at the ruined, tattered pages. If you squinted hard enough you could see tiny indigo, translucent tears brimming at the edge of his eye sockets. 

“ _I think we should a breather,_ ” He stood up, chair creaking in his wake as he gathered the ripped pages into his summoned hands and the book with his normal ones. He beckoned for you to sit up and follow him, pointedly looking way from you again. Perhaps he didn’t enjoy being vulnerable in public? His expression was that of a troubled grimace when he finally gazed back down to meet your eyelight.   
  


“ _How about we visit Mabel, hmm? Perhaps she could show us another one of her little robots_...”  
  


You didn’t know what to think of the monsters’... More than concerning past. You knew you were _supposed_ to feel sympathy for them, or some sort of emphatic understanding towards their situation. But you only felt... Fury, a boiling frustration that you could feel deep in your sternum. You felt frustrated in the humans’ inexcusable behaviour for what they did to monsters, you felt frustrated in how weak monsters were compared to them, and you felt frustrated in _yourself._ You’ve been trying and _trying_ to feel anything but these... negative emotions and to make sense of those _excruciating_ chimes that ring mockingly, sardonically in your ear. It was like trying to grab onto water, trying to feel a connection that you _knew_ you were omitted from.

  
Before you knew it you were stomping out of your room in a rush, not bothering to put on your shoes. You needed to think, to get your bearings, or _anything_ to get you from slamming a fist straight into the walls of this laboratory in a cry of anger. You needed to get the _hell_ out of here, anywhere but here! You remembered Twigs explaining how he and his colleagues get in and out of the lab, with an... Elevator you think he called it. Yes, that’s it! You just needed to find it and you’ll be finally be calm and happy(as close as you could get to that, anyway) again and then you’ll-

You felt your breath leave your metaphorical lungs as a whiplash of pure, unadulterated magic was sent straight to your very being, your own retaliating accordingly. In the daze of a second instincts overcame you and a milky white, sword-like bone was materialised into your hands. The lab around you shrivelled(!?) into a void of darkness, leaving nothing but you, your weapon and...

_Twigs?!_   
  


Your body went rigid still as you observed his form, your grip on your weapon easing just slightly at the sight of him. He wasn’t wearing his lab coat and instead was donning a grey turtleneck and baggy sweatpants that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a week. His bagged eye sockets were even more conspicuous than yours and his eyelights were... _very_ purple and orange, you probably could be blinded by them if you stared long enough. A raptorial sneer was decorating his features as he lifted his left hand and clenched his fists. His magic cackled against yours, powerful and stifling.   
  


Your eye socket widened in growing horror as two hulking, eldritch skulls emerged from a ray of purple wisps, obediently floating towards Twigs in tandem. They glared down at you with cold, dead eye sockets, their glowing eyelights were the exact same colour as their master.

_What in the world are those things?!  
_   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah this chapter is packed.
> 
> Here’s some good ol’ lore building for ya! I tried to write a decent chunk of the history between humans and monsters without revealing everything. I don’t want to put too much into one chapter, after all. 
> 
> And yay! Cherub’s meltdown is already starting and we’re only three chapters in! Let the suffering commence!
> 
> (Next chapter we’ll get to see what’s going on with Sans ;)
> 
> Oh yeah, this fic is definitely inspired by Handplates by Zarla, y’all should check it out if you haven’t already!


	5. Dad to the Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans lists the reasons why his old man shouldn’t win the Father of the Year Award.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up! This chapter has lots and lots of references to child abuse! Viewer discretion is advised.

Okay, maybe he should’ve expected this.

Sans idly stood by the University gate, his hands in the pockets of his blue cotton jacket as he shifted his gaze from one passerby to the next, trying to make out his truant father from among them. His peers have long since left the campus, most likely having already returned home to spend quality time with their families or to finish their assignments.

He really should’ve anticipated this when he first noticed his father’s old vice of coming home in the dead of the night returning to bite him in the coccyx. It started just five days ago when he heard his father scuffling about in the kitchen during the early hours in the morning, frantic and breakneck until he felt the familiar thunderous, acrid cackle of his old man’s magic in the air, indicating that he had teleported away to his work. When the young skeleton came down from his room to investigate he found days worth of spaghetti and hotdogs safely tucked into Tupperware, a written note precariously sticking to the top with a succinct explanation on how he ‘has reached a breakthrough with his assistants and may be absent for an indefinite amount of time’.

_ old habits die hard, i guess._

He sighed through his teeth, smile strained and tight as he awkwardly shifted his feet beneath a lamp pole. What else did he expect? That a simple promise would make pops transform into an entirely new, better person? That he would take him and Paps into his arms and tell them that everything’s gonna be nice and dandy from now on?

~~There was a reason why he hated making them in the first place.~~

And if he did, what was he gonna do with the bitter memories of his father being an complete arsehole? Was he supposed to just forgive and forget as if it never happened? Him coming back home slumping and stumbling from the local bar drunk out of his mind after a bad day, him neglecting both his sons to work on the CORE, him disappearing for nights on end to who knows where, him missing his graduation from high school, him missing Papyrus’ first day in kindergarten, or just being _absent_ in general.

Oh yeah, there was also those experiments that his old man conducted on him in an attempt to make him stronger, thinking that it would somehow be ‘beneficial’ to him. And now here he was 5 years later with his crappy STATs, his fun-sized height and the ability to pervert into other monsters’ SOULs. (He wouldn’t admit that he actually found that last one helpful. Seeing if one had EXP allowed him to know who to put his trust on. And it was definitely practical for protecting Paps, too.)

Maybe there was a time where his father had been more benevolent and caring, a time where he had sung him to sleep with lullabies or took him to the Capital Park, a time where he held his hand with his much larger one and comforted him when he thought there were humans hiding under the bed.

~~But that person died when his mother did.~~

He turned his head to look back at the university, bored out of his mind from waiting for a man he knows will never come. The school was aptly named Monster University. (he kinda appreciated the King’s lack of creativity, it paired well with his own _sansational_ sense of humour) It was the only one of two built when the monsters were first settling underground, the other already being long left abandoned back in Home.

It wasn’t really a large edifice, made from the sedimentary and metamorphic rock mined from the mountain itself. It was aged but maintained well enough to not be able to discern any obvious faults except for a few benign cracks every so often. Over the centuries the campus was expanded, rebuilt and altered to accomodate more monsters, but there still were not many of the kingdoms’ citizens who chose to pursue a higher education, even with the decree that free education would be given to all.

There were statues scattered across the garden encircling the school, all depicting influential figures throughout Monsterkind history. Kings, queens, generals and scholars were all immortalised as chiseled limestone statues. They stood proud, marvellous and mighty, representing an epoch long gone. Many veterans from the War still visit the university, paying their respects to what they consider as their comrades’ graves.

There was one of his mother as well, near the Chemistry building. It was one of the newer ones, polished and unscathed, painting her like a graceful goddess. The sculpture showed her standing tall and majestic with her left hand hand stretched out as if in greeting, a maternal smile on his lips.

His old man brought him here only once before, when Papyrus was still a babybones and his mother’s passing was fresh and raw on their minds. If he recalled correctly it was the week after they scattered her dust among her favourite object, a wooden framed photo of the entire Gaster family in the Wishing Room back in Waterfall, the baby blue flickers of the echo flowers casting an ethereal glow on their smiling faces.

~~Now neither of them go anywhere near it. It~~ ~~only ever brings back painful reminders of a better yesterday~~.

It was enough, and that was as much as monsters could get living down here.

Sans felt tiny among his classmates, his age and handicapped height making him seem insignificant compared to students and professors alike. He didn’t particularly have many friends, nor was he too interested in doing so, but the funny and laidback facade that he had learned to master through his short 10 years of living was enough to placate the bullies that roamed the corridors, and that in itself was enough for him to be content.

All in all, it was a pretty sweet deal. He got a good education and kept to himself while the others kept their distance as long as he had a pun at the ready. It was an unspoken pact, an unwritten contract that both sides knew wouldn’t be ruptured anytime soon.

But that certainly didn’t stop him from wondering if they were envious of him. That they were _jealous_ that it was him, the stubby, know-it-all-runt that hadn’t even shed his stripes yet who was deemed the prodigy of the eminent W.D. Gaster.

He remembers early on the school term someone had approached him during lunch break, a shy, timid monster from Waterfall he’d forgot the name of who asked a seemingly simple inquiry, which unbeknownst to said monster was the one question he had no answers to.

“What it’s like, having the acclaimed Royal Scientist as a dad?”

His eyelights had dimmed immediately at the mention of his father, his grin looking more like a restrained grimace as he struggled to find the words that wouldn’t get the unsuspecting enquirer running for the hills.

What should he say? What _could_ he say? That his father was an immoral, apathetic excuse of a monster that used to mentally and physically torture him until begged for the Angel to come save him? Or should he lie through his teeth, proclaiming with the most heartfelt smile he could muster that he was a saint among saints, the salvation that monsterkind need in order to get out of this godforsaken Barrier? The way that the media seems to portray him?

_ yeah, not gonna happen._

Instead the young skeleton placed his half-eaten tomato sandwich (made by himself, no grouchy old man required) on the table, looking back at the monster with a look that could only be described as resignation.

"he’s my father, but i’m for damn sure know that he’s not my dad.” 

The monster was taken aback for a moment, not expecting such hostility and malice in his voice. They took in his words, their expression shifting from one of surprise to one of sympathetic, dispirited understanding. They gave him an apologetic smile, their eyes swiftly looking at anything but him from the embarrassment and humility that they asked such a question.

“I... t-thank you, for answering I m-mean. I’m s-so sorry that I asked that!”

He could only grant them a halfhearted smile as he watched the monster walk away, and even that faded once they were out of view. It was a half truth, really, but it was enough for them to accept and skedaddle, so he couldn’t really find it in himself to complain.

He knew that they were genuine in their apology, monster SOULs were made out of Love, Hope and Compassion, after all. It was literally coded into their bodies to be nothing short of kind, making it nearly (and a very heavy emphasis on that nearly) impossible for a monster to be insincere in their actions.

Of course, it never hurts to do a little CHECK here and there. Just to make sure.

Gotta deal with the cards he’s being given, right?

...

He’s now just realised that he’s been waiting by the same empty street underneath the same lamppostfor more than an hour, feeling how his legs along with the rest of his body all starting to shut down from the lack of movement.

_ okay, that’s it._

He knew he _could_ try to shortcut back home, but lately his magic has been a little out of whack, stuttering and unpredictable, making him only able to safely travel shorter distances. The last time he tried to shortcut for over 4 kilometres he had nearly materialised straight into a tree, just a few 3 inches short from doing so.   
  


The Gaster family home was on the other side of the city.

Sans felt his proverbial brain going a mile a minute as he weighed his chances, his phalanges fiddling with the material of his hoodie. He could simply walk back home, but he really couldn't be bothered to stroll through the entire metropolis with a week worth of work heaved over his shoulder, his frail stamina just didn’t and _wouldn’t_ allow it. _And_ he was pretty certain he never memorised the roads and alleyways that lead the way back in the first place! So that option’s ruled out.

If he _did_ decide to shortcut his way through New Home there’s a roughly 50% chance of getting to his front porch in one piece and would also give him time to make dinner, or he could meet his timely, unfortunate but hopefully quick death where he would leave Paps alone to fend for himself, living under the roof of a very unstable madman who-

_ yep, that’s a big fat **no**._

He opened his duffle bag and rummaged through the many binders and books inside, snatching his phone where it laid smushed between his quantum physics textbook and joke book, a gift he got for himself from the local library after he passed last term’s finals with flying colours. The phone itself was like any model you would find on the street, harbouring all the basic features and functions, just enough for it to still be considered a ‘smartphone’.

_ not like i need a jetpack, anyway._

With a quick, fluid flick of his digits he found himself foraging through his contacts. Before now he never really took notice on how many numbers he had actually saved, feeling a strange wave of nostalgia as he looked through the names of old, practically forgotten pals.He had not spoken to most of them for years now, especially after his pops kept moving him from one institution to the next, all claiming that they ‘weren’t adequate for someone of his competence.’

His phalanges lingered on their names as he contemplated his decisions. Would they still remember him if he decided to give them a call? Did they still use these same numbers? And what if they didn’t and he ended up dialling a stranger? And what would he do then? Tell a knock knock joke to ease off the awkwardness? Would pops even allow him to be a kid for once? Does he even need his permission anymore?

Perhaps he should just pay Hotland a visit and worry about the consequences later.

It felt like an eternity had passed when he finally found the alias ‘The Walking Torch’, feeling a small smile grace his nonexistent lips at the sight of the number. Grillbz had been one of the first few monsters he had met outside his own family, a close friend of pops since they were still in stripes. He was someone the young skeleton knew he could rely on, always being able to lend a helping hand even when he was slaving at his own work. ~~Essentially like the father he never had.~~

Sans never inspected too far into what Grillby did as the lieutenant of the Royal Guard, really only ever knowing that his work required him to make weekly, sometimes daily trips to the King’s Castle and that he needed to act all serious and stoic to help convey his image to the people.

But once he was out of his armour Grillbz became a much more reserved, private person. He opted not too speak and preferred signing above all else, only ever communicating through speech to prove his point. But even then he was still the same warm-hearted, thoughtful fire elemental that he grew to love as his uncle.

And he was the only person that could stand up against his pops and win, so that was always a plus.

“Sans? What are you still doing here?”

_ welp, here comes the fire brigade._

Just his luck, looks like he never needed to painstakingly grab his phone after all. He internally prayed to any God listening that the watching fire elemental couldn’t see his disgruntled scowl as he took his precious time to zip and haul up the duffel bag over his shoulder.

He eventually tore his eyes sockets up to greet the lieutenant’s flaming eyes, trying his hardest to tug the contours of his mouth in a cordial smile as he pocketed his phone. “ waiting for pops, uncle grillbz. but as you can see i’m kinda _sans_ his company right now. heh.“

Grillby only frowned in response, the flames on his head flaring white for only a second, betraying his calm visage. He was still on duty, classes in his iron armour that made him look twice as burly and thrice as menacing. His sword was sheathed on his leather belt, a hand absently tucking on the handle, ready to be drawn out at all times.

This is definitely gonna get some onlookers.

They continued their impromptu staring contest until Grillby finally relented and sighed, gently placing his ungloved hand onto the skeleton’s shoulder. It was pleasantly warm to the touch, only ever being harmful if he had the Intent to do so. Sans in response had very nearly flinched from the physical contact as his magic responded defensively, not at all accustomed to being touched by anyone who wasn’t his brother.

“Do you want me to escort you home? My shift is nearly over.” Grillby’s voicewas akin to a warm fireplace, raspy but controlled, his hand never leaving the skeleton’s shoulder blade.

“read me like a book,” His grin turned more genuine, his signature smug smile returning in full force as his eyelights mischievously sparkled at the prospect of a well-timed joke. "you could say you read right through-“

“Sans. _Let’s go._ ”

_ bingo._

* * *

Sans kept _firing_ his quips as they went on their merry way, his earlier worries having long since pushed into the back of his conscious, still there but no longer clouding his sense of judgement. He was _humerus_ -ly watching the lieutenant’s unflappable facade slowly but surely crumble beneath his witty play of words, struggling to maintain his professional countenance. It... made the hour long trip back home much more bearable.

“you ever wondered why i like to study gravity?” He snickered when the fire elemental didn’t reply, his attention fully on the red light ahead of them.

“probably because i find it to be such an attracting field.”

Somewhere in the multiverse Sans swore he could hear the entrancing reverberation of a cymbal, loud and demanding, the most suitably comedic instrument second only to his prized trombone.

He saw the corner of Grillby’s mouth twitch upwards just _ever so slightly_ , and that was when he knew that he was beginning to break him. He just _had_ to keep going, his reaction alone will be worth all the effort.

“a classmate of mine is a really aggressive learner, they hit the books.“

“there was a cosmetic student who had to take sick leave during the school’s finals and now she has sit through make up exams.”

“i asked somebody a question about pi, their answer was never ending.“

“ _Sans!_ ”

Grillby was now chuckling along with him, a boisterous, hearty laugh that he heard only a few times before. They were nearing the Gaster estate, and he definitely caught the Royal Guard walking much less brisk than half an hour prior, almost at a snail’s pace as he attempted to look as if he was just taking in the higher-end neighbourhood.

_ d’aw, he really does appreciate my presence. _

The rest of the trip back home was in companionable silence, the older monster having made himself crystal clear that ‘if he keeps punning he will revoke all his family’s tab privileges from Fuku’s diner.’

Now he just couldn’t have that, could he?

And so he resentfully abstained from punning any further in fear of losing the only good food that wasn’t instant ramen or ‘dogs.

It wasn’t until they had reached Sans’ front door was the silence broken, Sans immediately stiffened in discomfort and curiosity when he felt the mood between to the two of them shift. He looked up to see Grillby glaring down at the door, face solemn and pensive.

“When was the last time you’ve seen your father?” His lieutenant, all-business voice was back again, sounding almost accusatory, edging on anger.

Sans raised a brow bone at this, his interest piqued. Why did it matter how often he saw his pops? Not like he did much of anything for him and Paps when he actually _was_ with them. A few days of being missing in their lives was just par of the course.

“probably five days ago. why does it matter?“ He didn’t mean to sound so defensive, but he knew Grillbz had enough power from his occupation to take him away, or to take _Paps_ away. The chances that they would get adopted into the same family would be little to nothing, they would be separated! How would he protect his little bro then?!

The fire elemental only deepened his glare, showing nothing of what he could be thinking. “It’s nothing worth worrying about. I’ve just been having a crave to see my oldest friend, that’s all.” The skeleton knew that he was keeping some of the truth from him, but he held in his retort as he watched Grillby straighten to his full height, his hands folded behind his back in an X shape. They stood in silence for a little while, Grillby continuing to inspect him while he sweated bullets and _desperately wanted to get the heck back inside_ -

“It was nice to see you again, Sans,” Grillby finally held out his hand for a friendly handshake after what felt like eternity, his sage smile returning on his features. “But do remember, there’s always a home with me and my daughter.”

Sans felt uneasy shaking his lukewarm hand, trying to decipher what he just meant. What he really suggesting what he thought he was suggesting...?

“ likewise.“

And he continued to feel uneasy when he went back inside the house, finding Paps tuckered out lopsidedly on the couch, still wearing his kindergarten uniform. He was sucking on one of his phalanges, his form curled as if attempting to hug himself. His eye sockets were... relaxed, unburdened and carefree, much unlike his older brother, the older brother who... wanted nothing more but for Paps to always be like this, to always stay the positive, bubbly, enthusiastic skeleton that he’s always been, to always be...

... smiling.

But he knew that was too much to ask for, especially in the world they were living in. He knew that one day, it could be tomorrow or even decades later, his younger brother will come to the fatal realisation that life wasn’t just about singing songs and hoping to see the stars one day, that it wasn’t just some... wonderland where everything could come true in an instant, where their pops will finally just... _stop_ to think about what he was doing, what he _had been_ doing, and come back to become their father again. And not the one that _claims_ that he would do better, that claims that he... ‘regrets’ everything and yet doesn’t truly do anything about it, the one who says empty words and breaks promises, but their _real_ father, the one he had seen glimpses of before Papyrus was born, the one who gave him piggyback rides without hesitation, the one who...

who...

...

Sighing, Sans glanced down to see evidence of pops’ ‘artisan’ pasta left half eaten and abandoned on the coffee table next to him, a fork lying half-coated in sauce just beneath it. 

Sans’ sockets softened, letting his seeping anxiety slip away as he observed his younger brother’s sleeping form, looking like he’d be out for the count for the rest of the night. Hmm, must’ve been a hard day.

Heh... it’s been a long and hard day for him, too. But he guessed that they’ve both gotten used to it by now.

He, as quietly as his porcelain feet could let him, carried Papyrus to his bed, slighting nuzzling the younger’s forehead with his teeth until he eventually left the room to go into his own, writing his homework of the day into the early hours of the morning, the soft sounds of his brother’s snoring being his only companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I never realised how hard it could be to write Sans! I’m not a very puny person so I had no choice but to search online. Eh, I think it was well worth in the end!
> 
> ~~and the Undertale skin is super fun to use. I was pretty much using it at every opportunity i could get in this chapter.~~
> 
> Gaster actually does hire a caretaker for them... if he remembers to, forcing Sans to grow up in more ways than one. Because of this Sans is actually a pretty decent cook, but he can’t be bothered to actually do it when there’s a perfectly good greasy burg’ just a blip away.
> 
> I think I have decided to split this Fic into two arcs. Starting from Coronet’s early years to Frisk’s fall down Mt. Ebott. I predict for the first one to be around.. 15-20 chapters or 25 at most as long as I don’t get too carried away. I don’t know whether or not I’ll write a third arc for when they reach the Surface, but I’ll just have to see if I still have any motivation then, lol. 
> 
> EDIT: fixed lots and lots of grammatical errors. there’s probably still more I hadn't noticed but I guess that’s what you get for writing chapters at 3 am


	6. A Series of Unfortunate Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel has a night terror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets VERY dark, there’s mentioned suicide and actual suicide(even if that certain someone comes back pretty quickly), so please be mindful! :)

_All Asriel could feel was pain._

_It was mind-numbing, searing through and invading his fleeting thoughts like poison, as if millions of toxic insects were biting all over his body with their serrated, piercing pincers. His mouth felt ashy and dry, like grains of coarse sand in a barren desert he remembered through his father’s stories, when he was still an innocent, naive child._

_In a way, he still was, thinking that the plan could work, that he wouldn’t be a crybaby for just_ one _day, or that he would gather enough nerve and courage to kill the remaining 6 SOULs they needed for their emancipation._

_The humans of the village were still shouting, howling and spouting curses at him, wounding him in ways the tipped arrows imbedded deep into his back could not. He couldn’t focus, his vision blurring and threatening to shut out entirely. His legs were struggling to stay upright, buckling underneath the weight of himself and the human child he was carrying in his arms._

_There was something, no- someone who was louder than the rest, they were screaming, pleading into his ears. He could feel a sharp, frantic pull on his conjoined SOUL, begging for him to FIGHT, begging for him to **stop being such a coward**!_

_But he paid no mind. Even against the shrieks, the imprecations and the agony he kept going, kept forcing himself to walk away from the settlement and towards the mountain that trapped his citizens. He couldn’t bear the deaths of guiltless people on his conscious, no matter how ‘noble’ their cause was, it just wasn’t right._

**_Asriel! Please, listen to me! They’re humans, they don’t deserve to live up here in the Surface. It should be you, mum, dad and the rest of Monsterkind who should be up here!_ **

_The view of the village was getting further away now, distant and insignificant, its inhabitants long having gone back inside the comfort of their own homes to convene and gossip. The forest surrounding Mt.Ebott loomed forebodingly over the Boss Monster, thick with foliage and vegetation, protected by the age-old legends and myths of terrifying, carnivorous beasts that prowl at night, tales that were twisted by word of mouth._

_Asriel continued to ignore the voice in his throbbing head, fighting to keep control of the body they were now sharing. They were attempting to drag and yank him back to their childhood home, their SOUL red like crimson shining brightly against his own. His fading form was already getting unstable from his numerous injuries, speckles of his dust and streaks of their blood cascading down from his limbs onto the leafy ground below. He gritted his teeth from all the exertion, not sure on how long he could keep this up if both his body and mind were getting tugged in two directions all at once._

_Chara. Its already too late, we’re dying._

**_If we go back now we could absorb more SOULs, we’ll become a god like you said we would! We wouldn’t be able to get hurt at all! We’d be immortal! Just let me seize control and go back!_ **

_No. We’re going back to the Underground! If I’m fast enough we should at least be able to get to dad’s throne room._

_He didn’t know how long it took him to get to the cliff overlooking the woodland and the nearby mountain range; The sun was at its highest, blazing and brilliant as it cast short, honed shadows on the shrubs around him. Birds perched on the evergreens’ branches, tweeting and oblivious to the commotion just metres below them. He almost wished he could stop and simply appreciate the view, sit by the precipice and watch the sky above him change its colours as the Sun set over the horizon, the glimmering stars following soon after._

_The Surface world was beautiful. He just wished he could’ve seen more of it._

_His wheezes were getting steadily more laboured and raspy, practically needing to gasp for air as he clenched the sides of the cave to stable himself. He could feel himself slipping away from wakefulness, his stride getting gradually slower the nearer to the Barrier he got. Chara’s voice_ _was still ringing in his ears, but now sounding more like a distant, almost inaudible murmur._

_He stared down at the cave entrance ahead of him, the threshold between the world of monsters and the world above. The tingle of magic from the Barrier clashed against his own, robust and suffocating, the strength of the 7 Mages of old dwarfing even the power of his reinforced SOUL._

**_Asriel... p-please._ **

_He knew the exact moment when he started crossing the Barrier. There was a loud, echoing pop followed by the sounds of something akin to electricity sizzling, frazzling and charging, making his fur stand on end. Its pull on him increased the further he went, dragging him down like gravity as he felt his weight increased tenfold. His SOUL thumped strongly in his chest, feeling as if it could burst at any second as it fought to keep his body in one piece._

_And before he knew it another pop was heard and everything went back to normal, like nothing ever happened in the first place. He was greeted with the darkness of the cavern, the only light source being the patch of grass just a few metres right of him. He was back in the Underground, empty handed and dying._

_He noticed that he could no longer hear Chara, but he could feel in his being that they were still alive, clinging but only just barely, their own SOUL starting to crack at the seams._

_Just... a little more now._

_He kept going until he finally collapsed onto his father’s buttercups, the fragrant scent of flowers and betrayal overpowering his senses. His breaths were slow and uneven as he cradled Chara’s body to his chest, his grip on them loosening by the second. His emerald eyes widened in terror as he watched the tips of his claws slowly but surely disintegrate into ash._

_“Asriel! Chara!”_

_He lethargically looked up from his hand to meet the gaze of his parents, their expression aghast and terrified. His mother had her hands clasped to her mouth, her puffy, reddened eyes watering with newly brimming tears. She rushed towards him with his father in her wake, her breath hitching in her throat as she crouched to support both him and Chara._

_Asriel felt so,_ so _tired, it was a fatigue he never_ ever _felt in his life. His entire body was trying to coax him to rest, to sleep, to finally give in. But he couldn’t, not yet. He could only watch in silence as his feet, his arms and finally his torso all slowly crumbled into dust._

_His parents’ tears were cascading onto his face like a roaring waterfall, for they knew they could do nothing, there was no amount of green magic in the entire Underground that would be enough to reverse the damage done onto his body. They examined his decaying form, noticing the humans above’s signature weaponry. The Royals’ hundreds of years of experience allowed them to instantaneously know that the arrows were laced with the Intent to kill, suggesting that their son would have dusted the moment they hit him if it weren’t for the SOUL he had absorbed._

_Asriel could feel his death creeping onto him, enticing him to let go. He knew that in just a few short moments he would cease to exist, becoming one with the flowers he chose to make his final bed with. But he needed to apologise, to at least explain to his loving parents why he and Chara had made up such an ambitious scheme, why-_

_The throne room was suddenly bathed in scarlet and white, the two radiant SOULs rising from Asriel’s ashes as one, suspending, floating for just a few seconds before they cracked and shattered in unison._

_Some say that during that fateful day a hoarse, melancholic cry was heard from one end of the Underground to the other._

* * *

_Asriel’s eyes snapped opened with a jolt, gulping in a few mouthfuls of air.  
  
_

_His eyes darted around in a panic, only calming down once he noticed that he was no longer in his father’s throne room but instead a different chamber with a row of rectangular mirrors affixed to the wall and a plethora of withering buttercups surrounding him._

Wait, what?

_His alarm instantly returned. He was dead! Or.... at least he should be dead?... but he literally felt himself crumble into a sack of dust! Those humans had enough killing Intent to dust his dad! He positively-definitely should be said sack of dust!_

How... Why...?

_He looked down and saw that he had no arms. Or legs. Or anything that resembled at all like a Boss Monster. Or just a monster in general._

Huh?!

_He squinted through the darkness, trying to get a good look of himself through the mirrors, all his thoughts pertaining to something like “This can’t be happening.” He gasped tumultuously once his vision adjusted to the dimness, realising just_ exactly _what he was._

_He was one of his father’s buttercups. He was a flower with black beady eyes and a freakish mouth looking like it should belong to those retro horror movies that he and Chara found in the Dump that one time._

_Asriel felt like he could puke._

_What type of sick irony was this? Was this his punishment for their reckless plan to save Monsterkind? Condemned to be the very flower that sealed his best friend’s suicide? Was he doomed to be in this form forever, or until he wilted from malnutrition? Was this what karma felt like?_

No, I can’t... I can’t be like this.

_He swerved his new flower head as far as he could, looking for anything that he could use to do himself in, his eyes finding purchase on a pair of gardening sears just a few feet away. He refused to live like this, he had already come to terms with the fact that his end was on those bed of golden flowers, but he certainly did not desire to become one of them, for stars sake!_

_He kept waggling and swaying his stalk in an attempt to get out of the flowerpot, giving up when he found that he was only uselessly teetering closer to the edge of the table he was on._

_The now-flower brooded and contemplated for a couple of minutes until he grumpily resolved to moving only his roots, and with a few tugs, twitches and a little bit of patience he eventually was able to yank one of the roots out of the dirt he was planted in, slithering out of the pot like a disabled snake having a aneurysm._

_He snarled in increasing vexation as his grip on the sears kept loosening, making the utensil repeatedly fall onto the table with a loud, reverberating clank. He craned his stem and reached over to it as it got closer to him, opting to grab it with the teeth that he apparently had as a flower._

_He winced and nearly dropped the sears again when two crucial, equally frightening realisations dawned over him like a whiplash._

_1\. Did his parents know of this?_

_2\. And where was the monster(or human, who was he to know where he was?) that owned this place?_

_With the grace of a infant bird still learning to fly he urgently wrapped his free root around the scissors, not too inclined on meeting the person that somehow turned him into the flower-with-a-face that he now was, whoever did was probably a mad botanist that was hellbent on making him into some weird, spooky plant minion, or worse!_

_After a quick and uneven influx of breath he steeled himself for his second death. Logic says it should be easier to deal with the second time around, right? Not like not many people get to live a second life and immediately throw it away afterwards in the first place, but it should just be a quick snap and-_

_For just a single instance all he could feel was pain, everywhere and nowhere, inside and outside, like his entire foundation was perishing away in layers, very much like his experience the first time he died. (How different can death get, anyway?) But just as his awareness fully gave out, just before his consciousness ceased to be he saw something in the distance, dim and bright both at the same time, a yellow four-pointed star that illuminated the null void around him, beckoning for him to pull through, to carry on, to stay Determined..._

_Asriel’s eyes snapped open with a jolt, gulping in a few mouthfuls of air._

_He, once again, was brought back from his demise, not a single laceration on his petals._

_He very nearly screamed at the top of his (now nonexistent)lungs._

_Why was this happening to him? All he wanted was to be the saviour the Delta Rune prophesied, to save his people from being bound to live underground forever. It was supposed to be his destiny to become a god! Why did he have to go and mess it up?! Why did he have to be so damn sensitive and ruin his and Chara’s plan?!_

_  
_Idiot, idiot, **IDIOT**!

_Hot, flowing tears started to run down his face, dripping down and dampening the floor below him as he wept. A transparent puddle was forming beneath the table, shaping a mirror that reflected his plant body back to him._

_His breath hitched as he gaped at himself for the second time that day, a portion of him still disbelieving that he actually went through with their plan, that he was just having a cryptic, subliminal dream and he would soon wake up to the aroma of his mother’s butterscotch pie.  
_

_He let out a shrill, morose laugh as he cried harder, his sniffles resounding across the laboratory, bouncing off the metal walls and amplifying his wails._

_It was not much longer until his tears dried up, used, spent and exhausted. (He didn’t bother questioning exactly how he was crying, he was too drained to really think of much else.)_

_He felt so, so_ utterly _useless._

_He wondered if his parents missed him, wondered if the kingdom grieved for the loss of their Hope, the Hope that he so stupidly snuffed out. In an ideal world where he had broken the Barrier his kingdom would have been free to walk the earth once again, his parents would have smiled down cheerfully at him, his father retired from his duties as King while his mother would become the teacher he knew she always wanted to be, opening the first ever Human-Monster school in dozens of generations. His name would become legend among both races, his story retold and rehearsed centuries after his own death._

_Now he was just a buttercup. Not even a monster, not ever will he be able to-_

_There was the echoing click of a switch, the lights above Asriel blaring on abruptly as he grumbled and flinched away from the light source. He shifted his eyes to the entrance, mumbling to himself until he froze rigid still at the stranger who stood there, his expression mimicking his own, his mandible slack and his pinprick eyes small and sharp._

_This is not what he expected a mad scientist to look like._

* * *

_“Wait, so you’re saying that when I kill-died, time reset?!”_

_Gaster nodded calmly, having already gathered his bearings from his initial surprise. He had his fingers clasped and folded together underneath his chin, his piercing eyelights boring a hole straight into Asriel, who, on the other hand, only felt more perturbed by what he was hearing._

_He frowned and gritted his teeth, trying to find the words to reply to such a outrageous, abhorrent claim. If he weren’t already a buttercup he would’ve thought this skeleton to be insane. But here he was hundreds of years after his so-called death alive and breathing but definitely not-a-Boss-Monster._

_“Why... why did this happen?”_

_The scientist only let out an amused, sly chuckle as he moved to get a little closer to Asriel, his glasses barely hiding his giddy excitement in his wrinkling eye sockets. “Which part? The part where you become sentient or the part where you came back even after you killed yourself?”_

_Asriel’s scowl deepened at his bluntness, taking a few seconds to fully make sense of what the skeleton had signed with his ultra-weird, unnerving ghost hands. He wasn’t accustomed to having to read them, it was a language he had only seen in school and nowhere else. Most Capital-dwelling monsters he’d seen usually had mouths for them to communicate with.... but so did this skeleton! Why couldn’t he just made it easier for the both of them?!_

_“You can start by telling me why you decided to bring me back from the grave, four hands. I was perfectly happy the way I was: Dead!”_

_Gaster perked a eye bone at the nickname but otherwise remained nonchalant. “You’re saying you were alive before?”_

_The flower’s face blanched in surprise. Was he just playing dumb with him for laughs? Was he finding his frankly_ very _distressing situation humorous? “Of course, idiot. I’m Asriel, you know, the King’s son? The Crown Prince of the Dreemurr Kingdom? You seem pretty air headed for a scientist.” (Both he and Gaster mentally cringed at the incidental play on words.)_

_This time it was the skeleton’s turn to whiten, at least as much as a already-pale one could. The lights in his eye sockets had gone out like extinguished stars as his hand shifted to his nasal bone, creasing in consideration. “Your dust, that’s what it must’ve been!”_

_Asriel growled and bared at his teeth at the skeleton, his anger only mounting the longer he spoke. He needed direct answers, not vague, indistinct statements that beat around the bush! “Yep, my ashes, that totally answers everything! I’ll take my leave now knowing the reason why I’m a talking buttercup with time powers!”_

_Gaster in turn sighed in exasperation, his brow bones furrowing at the prince’s lack of manners. “Your dust spread across the King’s garden when you died. I took one of the flowers as part of my Determination project and in-“_

_“Determination project? And why does it sound like there’s a capital D in there?”_

_“Let me finish,” Gaster drawled out, his phalanges uncomfortably scrapping on the laboratory table in an effort to keep his own displeasure in, having to remind himself that the flower was SOULless, Asriel or not. “Determination is what allows human SOULs to persist after death. I was experimenting to see how it affected sentient and non-sentient beings, your father was kind enough to lend me-“_

_“We have human SOULs?! But dad didn’t want-“_

_Without warning Asriel was forcefully lifted off the bench, a feeling of weightlessness overcoming him, his inertia in the jurisdiction of another. He gulped in fear, shutting his mouth with a decisive clank. He did not have much experience with blue magic, but he knew better than to keep babbling if he didn’t want to get pummelled and pounded into the wall like a pesky mosquito._

_“You will be **quiet**!” Gaster’s voice rang out as he signed, a loud, husky rumbling that was intelligible to the flower. It was grating to his proverbial ears, a bunch of gargle that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Asriel let out an involuntary quiver, still hovering in the air by the skeleton’s magic._

_“Ask questions after,” The skeleton berated after a moment of silence. “I believe this could be a learning experience for the both of us. So as long as you shut your trap and stay obedient we won’t have any problems.”_

_The flower only meekly bobbed his head, afraid that anything he’d do would only enrage the scientist further. With the both of them knowing that he’d just reverse the clock each time he died, he certainly did not want to know what_ else _Gaster could do, especially if that booming cackle of magic he felt from him was anything to go by._

_“Good.”_

_Asriel felt weight return to him as he was carelessly dropped to the floor, planting headfirst onto it with a vengeance. How the hell is he gonna get back up he was a flipping-_

_He grunted in alarm as one of Gaster’s ghost hands(which he still found_ very _unsettling) picked him by the flowerpot, hoisting him up to the skeleton’s eye level. He regarded Asriel for a second, his eyelights scanning the flower with a nod of approval before he flicked one of his phalanges, sending him out the entrance and into another room, said flower screaming the entire way._

_“Can you at least_ warn _me the next time you decide to manhandle me like a toy?” Asriel gritted out once the skeleton had caught up with him, his petals bristling in displeasure._

_“Now where’s the fun in that?” The skeleton replied, a wry smile decorating his porcelain-like face. He had his hands crossed behind his back, his posture regal and intimidating as he ambled his way through the many machineries of his making._

_The flower tore his attention away from him and towards the contraption he was led to. It was some sort of... giant red skull? It had wires and cables attached to the back of its head, connecting to a large screen on its right. The air around it seemed to chill in both temperature and ambience, almost as if the air particles themselves knew that it was something... wrong, unethical, unprincipled.  
  
_

_Like it shouldn’t have ever been made in the first place._

_“This is what me and my assistants call the DT Extractor,” The skeleton started_ , _making his way towards the panels of the screen. “This is what we use to extract DT from the human SOULs we harvested. And yes, your father did kill them, he declared war on humanity after you and Chara’s... unfortunate demise,” He halted for a moment, letting the flower take in his words. “We have collected 5 SOULs over the course of a couple of centuries. I made it my purpose as the King’s Royal Scientist to see if there were any alternate methods to breaking the Barrier, we can’t afford to wait a couple hundred more years while generations of monsters die without ever seeing the Sun.”  
  
_

 _The flower only hummed in response, his expression sullen. He’s been gone for that long and they’ve only got 5 SOULs? He could’ve ended all this suffering the moment he stepped into that village! His people_ _could’ve been living on the Surface right now alongside humans if he just wasn’t such a-_

_..._

_... shouldn’t he be feeling sympathetic? Or even just a little? Why could he only identify... frustration and resentment? Sure, he should be frustrated at himself and resent his circumstances, but he felt no pity for those fallen humans nor for his own kingdom, which was really,_ really _strange, even more so for someone like him! He’d cry over a fallen slice of bread! And in retrospect, he’s only been rude and disrespectful to a monster he’s known for only an hour, maybe he should ask him to take a look at his-_

_The scientist cut him off before he could continue that thought._

_“All human SOULs contain a certain amount of DT, but they only take the colour of the trait they have the most of. Souls of pure Determination are the rarest, but I heard your human sibling had a red SOUL, yes?”_

_Asriel absently nodded, his plant body on autopilot as he scrambled to locate the culmination of his being. He could almost sense it, but it was fleeting, fluttering away just before he could grab it, which_ really _wasn’t helping his pent up emotions right now._

_  
“I place the SOULs underneath here,” His free floating hand pointed to the maw of the metal skull as he typed away on the keyboard with his normal pair, the monitor flashing with numbers and formulas Asriel couldn’t quite make sense of. “And a tube from its marilla would extend and then penetrate the SOUL membrane, detecting the exact amount of DT and extracting it over periods of an hour. But I must be wary with how much I take, as the SOUL may crack or shatter if it loses too much of its Determination. And as much as I am hopeful and optimistic about my findings I would not want to jeopardise our main means of getting out of the Underground.”  
  
_

_The screen was now displaying the latest SOUL they had extracted, a Bravery SOUL as orange as the fruit_ _itself, its dispersion of traits showcased next to a series of equations. Tangerine was the most dominant followed by forest green and amethyst, only a tiny strand of ruby red among the seven colours.  
  
_

 _“This is the SOUL I used for you... and myself,” The scientist hesitated,_ _mulling over the possible outcomes he would get himself into if he decided to tell a sociopathic flower his darkest secrets. “I... I diluted your sample by a factor of 10000 and mine even more so. I was apprehensive of what would happen if DT were to mix with the volatile, pure magic that our bodies are composed of, and even with the titration my form isn’t... quite as stable as before, to stay the least.”_

_Gaster carried on talking but the flower was no longer truly listening, straining to make out his Resonance, that familiar **pop** that sounded like the sizzles and hisses of a fireplace, controlled but enough to bring warmth to one’s family; a type of flame that would unite everyone under one roof. He’d remember listening to it whenever he was upset, it being always enough to brighten up his frame of mind when he had a bad day..._

_But where was it? All he could hear was static, a signal with no direction. Why couldn’t he feel it? **Why couldn’t he feel it**?!_

_He recoiled into his pot when his eyes refocused to the sight of one of Gaster’s translucent hands snapping its phalanges, putting him out of his daze. The scientist himself had his arms crossed, his brows scrunched together in a lour._

_“You weren’t listening to me at all, weren’t you?”_

_The flower only glared harder in response, his composure threatening to snap under all the pressure. “I am trying to find my SOUL, four hands! But all I can detect is some loose strands and **that’s it!** ”_   
  


_The skeleton, however, still remained the epitome of relaxed, looking as if he was_ expecting _such behaviour. “Ah, I must have forgotten to mention it. Your dust may have lingered on those flowers but your SOUL vanished the moment your form lost all magical stability. And without a SOUL you are without emotion and compassion, you are simply a vessel with the memories of your previous life.”_

_What._

**_WHAT?!_ **

_The ground trembled as thorned vines protruded and burgeoned from the walls, slithering, squirming aimlessly around the two of them. Asriel himself grew longer as his stalk elongated, stopping only when his face was just inches from Gaster’s. His face melted, deformed and morphed, his mouth twisting into something sinister and baleful.  
  
_

_“So you’re saying your_ _little science project brought me back to life, without the very thing that made me, **me**?!”   
  
_

_The vines were beginning to coil around the scientist as purple sweat began to form on his crown. They wrapped around his talus and fibula, preventing him from teleporting to safety without risking bringing the unhinged flower with him. “I did not anticipate for your resurrection, prince Asriel!” He defended, trying to tear away from the constricting curls. “I was simply testing the effects of Determination! I didn’t know-“_

_His remaining words caught in his proverbial throat as the vines squeezed and choked the vertebrae of his neck, breaking his focus to sign. His hands also were constrained, noticed by the flower that he needed to move them in order to summon his phantom pair.  
  
_

_“You **made** me like this... this vacant husk of the monster I once was! I don’t care why you did it or how you did it, but you’re a sick freak, you know that? Mixing the remains of monsters and humans into one poisonous little flower...” His laugh was manic and wild, his smile widening further and meeting his eyes. “And mixing into **yourself**? Now that’s just a whole other level of ill.”_

_Even if Gaster was a skeleton he was still able to be crushed and/or suffocated to death, starting to see stars as he struggled against the flower’s hold. He couldn’t summon his blasters or his bones being jostled like this, fizzling out each time he tried to manifest a bone club to protect himself with.  
_

_But the flower continued his demented monologuing, not taking heed on how his grip kept tightening, tautening around Gaster’s neck and limbs, the bones starting to fissure under the compression until-_

**_CRACK!_ **

_The flower froze, his vines all melting away in a hiss of magic as he gawked at the sight of billowing, grey dust, **Gaster’s dust.** He felt his LOVE increase but as soon as the addicting, corrupting feeling came it was rout by regret, overwhelming amounts of regret and fear and-_

_He needed to fix this, to reverse this! He had time travelling powers, right? All he needed was to grab those sears again and Gaster will be alive like nothing ever happened-_

* * *

Asriel’s eyes snapped open with a jolt, gulping in a few mouthfuls of air.

He was tightly gripping onto the edge of his mattress, releasing hastily when his groggy mind remembered that he now had to always be mindful of his strength if he wanted to keep said mattress for more than two months.

All his senses were on high alert as he scanned his room for any sign of mirrors and buttercups, sighing in thankful relief when he was only greeted with the familiar sight of his bedroom door and personal belongings. He was back in New Home, safe and sound.

He was not that wretched, godforsaken flower. Not anymore.

The Boss Monster blearily scratched his eyes as he recalled.... whatever that nightmare was, it felt more like he was forced by some unseen, paranormal presence to relive his worst memories, either to just mindlessly torture him to no end or to prove a point, which was most likely the former, he’d guess.

He distractedly clawed at the fur of his arms, a nervous habit he had gained when he was first transformed back into a Boss Monster, when he still needed make sure that he was no longer armless, legless and emotionless.

He really, _really_ needed some of that reassurance right now.

The bed creaked as he ploddingly got up, stretching and straightening his cranky limbs once he did so. A growing monster like him needed to stay active, after all. His eyes glanced towards the digital clock on his wooden nightstand, his mood instantly souring when he noticed how obscenely early it was.

_3:25 am_.  
  


He knew that his nightmares were a guaranteed sign that he wouldn’t get a goodnight’s sleep for the rest of the night, his past experiences being more than enough proof of that. With a slurred grunt he slipped on the fuzzy slippers waiting by the foot of the bed, nearly stubbing his toe into his study table when he tried to hop out of said bed at the same time.

He was only in a loose T-shirt and cotton shorts as he strolled the halls of the Dreemurr Castle, feeling very much _not_ like a prince. It was getting almost embarrassing how many times he would wake up from his dreams in cold sweat at what-the-heck o’clock, and instead of going back to his slumber like a normal person would he’d skulk around and mull over everything like the edgy teenager he was.

And he had to be honest with himself, who else in the Underground has had the same gruelling, petrifying experience as him? (And if there was, maybe he should be _slightly_ concerned with the mental health of his people) His father recommended him to see a therapist, or just _anyone_ who would be able to help him with his trauma, (Not like he ever told him the full story, he doubt he ever will) but if he did, which was more than unlikely, he was sure that the therapist would need one of their own!  
  


And so he censured himself to eternally wallowing in self-pity.   
  


Flickers of his past swirled violently in his head, pecking at his thoughts. Flashes of his toddler years, of Chara, of his mother’s delectable baking, of his father eating that damned pie that started it all, of their plan, of Flowey.

  
  
 _Flowey_.   
  


That was what he had named himself after he accidentally killed Gaster in cold blood, after the RESET right afterwards where he fled the scientist’s laboratory before he could teleport to him, finding his father watering the very plants he died on, after the dozens of RESETs where he played a wild froggit chase with the skeleton, venting his frustration in his lack of affinity through manipulation, deception and _killing_.

  
  
~~He didn’t want to think that Asriel would do such a thing.~~

He learned to master his newfound power of time travelling, the loss of his Resonance allowing him to hear other monsters’ own, granting him the ability to spy on or evade anyone he wished. The Underground became his new toy, his chess set, his playground where he could do anything he saw fit with no repercussions, no consequences and no backlash.

He was the puppeteer, and his citizens were all the marionettes.

He was nice _at first,_ he’d help a bunny monster with her groceries, he’d help that lizard with dating, he’d act all buddy-buddy with the Temmies. Sometimes he’d visit Asgore while other times he’d see Toriel in the Ruins. (He never knew what to feel about his parents’ estranged relationship, but he never doubted that they never stopped loving each other. They were the Nose Nuzzling Champions, you can never back down from that!)

~~He knew it was his fault, it’s just that he never had the capacity to really care. But somewhere deep, deep inside he felt just a slight tinge of guilt. Perhaps he wasn’t so empty after all...?~~

In time, he grew tiresome of the same dialogue, the same things happening in each RESET, the _same_ smiling faces that were just all so... _jeering_. All reminding him that he never could truly be happy, that he’s stuck down here with the rest of them but in his own personal, never ending Hell.   
  


He decided that he needed something _else_ to entertain him. He remembered the feeling of his LOVE rising when he strangled Gaster, it was... addicting. He craved it, lusted for it, he wanted to experience it again and _again,_ it was _so_ _much_ better than the agonising vacancy that followed him everywhere he went like the plague.

And so, one RESET, he decided to kill a monster, just to test the waters, and it felt... _good_ , there was an exhilarating rush that came from seeing a monster’s dust, a sense of intoxicating adrenaline. (By that point he stopped questioning his new body and just accepted that he was a flower _monster,_ that wayeverything could just be derived from magic.) He started small, just a Moldsmal here and there and then a Vegetoid for good measure. But it was only enough for a quick rush, he needed _more.  
  
_

But that accursed skeleton stopped him before he could further indulge.  
  


There were many things he grew to resent over the course of the time loops. He hated Chara for abandoning him, he hated his parents for not being able to make him feel loved again, he hated himself for not able to _feel_ love, but he hated, _with a passion_ , that scientist who always ruined his all his fun.   
  


There would be times where his SAVEs were unstable, his LOADs jittery and unreliable. He didn’t know until after the fact that it was Gaster’s own Determination that was interfering with his, trying to overwrite his SAVE FILE. But his dose had been higher, more potent, making him _always_ the one who came up top.

Gaster was always trying to find him during the RESETs, but he would dig beneath the earth with his roots and escape before he could do so. (He learned to recognise the smell of ozone that occupied a teleport, he just had to escape as quickly as he could) He was the only other person that could remember the timelines, the only person who could stop him in his tracks.   
  


So what if he decided to dust that smug son of his, just to spite him and to see what his reaction would be?

  
He had a front row seat of what it was like to get dunked on in that particular timeline.

He was forced back into the laboratory(after a couple hundred LOADs of the skeleton kicking his grass) and restrained beneath the DT extractor. He couldn’t really recall what happened after that. There was Gaster’s form as he checked on his machine, lights, _lots of lights,_ _his body feeling like it was melting, dissolving and fracturing into a million pieces all at once as he was pulled and prodded and oh stars please just stop-_

Asriel blinked, and he was back in the balcony that he definitely didn’t remember walking to. His arms were shaking profusely, _everything_ was shaking profusely, his breathing was going a mile a minute, feeling like it might just go to overdrive if he decided to keep reminiscing about things that technically _never_ happened.

He clutched at the germaniums that his ears were bounded to, the only physical reminder of Chara he had left. He closed his eyes shut as he sat down crossed legged, trying to mitigate his escalating panic attack. He was fine, _he was fine_.

  
Or at least, he _will_ be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He’s not fine. :( 
> 
> Why do I like making everyone in this story so messed uP-
> 
> This chapter is a long one! I spent a good three days working on this bad boy, had to rewrite it a couple of times too, but this version was enough to not make me give up on an Asriel POV entirely.
> 
> Soooo here’s his backstory for this AU! It’s pretty much the same as in Undertale, just with a few major tweaks. I kinda had a hard time figuring out just exactly how much I wanted to write(if you can’t tell already) but I think I had a good enough flow where I covered everything for his character. 
> 
> Asriel is around 14 at this time, meaning it has been two years since he has been brought back to life. (Since he died at 12 years old!)
> 
> So if Gaster was the one who resurrected him, what role does Alphys play the story? I hear you ask, well... that’s spoilers! Buutttt she still ends up making the amlmagmates, I’ll tell you that much. But let’s just say I threw her a _bone_ because I didn’t want her to suffer as much-


	7. Clear the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherub and Gaster bond.

Gaster had never seen a monster flee an ENCOUNTER so quickly.

The cackle and sparks of volatile magic between the two duelling monsters was dense in the air, clashing, grappling and mingling like a paired dance. ENCOUNTERs between monsters did not always end in battle, most times it was simply another way of communication, a peaceful way to resolve conflicts, ending with the two adversaries SPARING each other.

But the nonplussed, trembling child that stood before him did not know any of that.

Their eyelight nervously flitted from Gaster, his blasters and to their own weapon, their grip on itonly tightening further as they warily eyed the two eldritch beasts that levitated beside him. The scientist could feel from the way their magic was reacting that they were trying to pull away and flee, but their Intent was unfocused, untrained and too spread out. He needed to guide them. But unfortunately for both skeletons, it was he who had initiated the ENCOUNTER in the first place, and as per the age old rules it was the attacked who took the first turn.

He could not ACT until Cherub did.

  
  


Their panic only kept rising as the ENCOUNTER progressed, aubergine sweat dripping from their boney brow as their magic strained and pulled against his own, proving only to agitate the floating skulls further as their gaping maws hissed threateningly back, impatient for a FIGHT.

  
  


The ionised, tensioned air surrounding them suddenly altered and shifted as the pulsating magic that was previously contending with his shifted its sharpness, placating his blasters and instead coagulating into what Gaster could only transcribe as: ‘I need to get the HELL out of here.’

In a split second the pounding sensation in his sternum ceased, the colours of the environment around them bleeding back as the laboratory came back into view. The blasters were swiftly dematerialised the moment he could do so, obediently vanishing into wisps of fume and smoke.

_Stars, that was a relief_.

He had to admit that he was getting a little anxious there, immobile and at the whims of a potentially dangerous child. Neither his HP nor his STATs were as high as they were in his prime, the decades worth of self-negligence and morbid cynicism slowly chipping away at him. He had hoped those DT injections from years ago would somehow deter the damage he’d done onto himself, but it had only made him...just _slightly_ gooey, erratic and amorphous.

Gaster had not the slightest clue on what would happen if Cherub had opted to FIGHT, for all he could know even a blow with pending killing Intent might have caused some serious injury, and after that one time the buttercup strangled him to death he really did not want to get anywhere near to _feeling how every single little bone in his delicate body lost all form as they degenerated into a pile of negatory, meaningless ash with nothing of value-_

He inhaled in deep breaths as he pressed his phalanges to his temple, attempting to stifle his riling, irritated magic. He had already lost control and started an unintentional skirmish with the poor child, and it was certainly not in his interests to further provoke them or himself by continuing to act irrationally and instinctively. Cherub and the rest of his lab apparatus were worth more than that. More than _him_.

The skeleton desperately, _desperately_ needed a break, even he could see that. He knew something like this was bound to happen, that he may or may not become so restless and so on-edge that he became a liability to not only himself but to others, but here it was backslapping him on the skull like he didn’t expect it, like it was the surprise of the century.

How he wished he wasn’t such a workaholic sometimes.

But now that he and his magic was as collected and cool as can be, he needed to get back to the task at hand:

Where did Cherub go?

He knew that the only option that they could take that didn’t involve FIGHTing or ACTing was to escape, if the lack of the inept usage of a certain skeleton’s magic slinking in the air was anything to go by. It was _where to_ that was the question, what place could’ve Cherub possibly gone that they would deem safe and sheltered? ~~And away from him?~~

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the answer to that particular problem, there really was only one place that Cherub would find any solace in. It was the only unoccupied room in the True Lab, the one that was the furthest from all his work and was once used as a Retiring Room, before Gaster and his assistants concluded that sleep was for the weak.

Their bedroom.

“ _ding ding!_ congrats, pops,” He could practically hear his son sarcastically saying with his usual self-satisfied attitude. “  you _winged_ it and still got the answer, i guess that’s why you’re named _wingding_.”

_Damn_ him and his jinxed name. He had lost count of how many puns his eldest had made with just their _denominations_. Where did his unhealthy, ruinous obsession with puns even come from?

Definitely not from him, that’s for sure.

The scientist started sluggishly making his way to the other end of the laboratory, trying not to freak out and blast everything oblivion like he very _nearly_ did. He knew that if he kept being so skittish he might end up razing all his life’s work into the ground, and that would be an absolute fun sight for his assistants to return to: their sleep deprived boss passed out in the midst of chaos and atrophy.

It generates an amusing image.

But he couldn’t help but feel a little bit lighter while he walked. Cherub had performed _magic_ , a very basic, rudimentary and crude femur bone, but _still_ magic nonetheless! And it was much, much earlier than he had predicted! Who knew that it only took a near life-death experience for a monster to first manifest their abilities?

~~Well, he did know, but he didn’t particularly like to think about his childhood. He could have almost watched Grillby dust right in front of him if the fire elemental hadn’t burnt that... derogatory, belittling human _scum_. Even if it was nearly a hundred years ago he couldn’t help but think of the... less than favourable outcomes that could’ve resulted from that disastrous ENCOUNTER.~~

But still, the possibilities were endless! There was a high chance of them inheriting his own, sharing the same affinity for blue magic and bones as Sans does, but with the way they were germinated and incubated there was always that strong likelihood for them to manifest more... ‘ _human-like_ ’ abilities.

Gaster could only pin his hopes that it would all luck out and be the latter, it was the only reason why he conjured up this ploy in the first place. But if fate once again decided that it would be entertaining to pull the rug from underneath him, undermining all his arduous effort, _again_ , he supposed he’d just have to deal with what he was given... _again_.

The Perseverance in his SOUL wasn’t just for show, after all.

He was dragged out of his inner musings once he had reached the other end of the laboratory, a modest, innocuous metal door laying before him, one which you would only care to glimpse at if you weren’t aware of the invaluable boon that resided on the other side.

Without bothering to knock, the child did not know the custom anyway, he pulled on the doorknob and went inside. It was pitch black, the artificial lights of the lab behind him only illuminating a few feet ahead of the scientist. It was... grubbier and scruffier than he expected, much like a certain someone’s room back in New Home. Duvets and pillows were plopped lackadaisically on the floor; numerous textbooks, novels and human-made magazines Gaster had given Cherub were piling on top of each other by the foot of the unmade bed, forming a makeshift fortress of knowledge.

The skeleton themself was hiding underneath said fort, their form slouched as they sat on their haunches, their phalanges tracing along the text of the history book they were reading. They tore their sockets up curiously at the sudden luminescence, their eyelight instantly shrinking and dimming at the sight of the monster that caused them such a fright just minutes ago.

Gaster cautiously sauntered towards them, his steps deliberately mild and demure as his hands were held up in front of him as a sign of congeniality. At the back of his consciousness he noted how similar this was to the events that happened only five days ago where they had done the exact same song and dance, when Cherub was newly out of their tube and ignorant of the world around them.

He could only wish that this would yield the same results.

The child only narrowed their socket at him suspiciously, scooting away to the furthest corner of the room with their book still secured in their boney arms. A low, rumbling rattling noise that the scientist hadn’t noticed before was emitting from their ribcage, their stance alert and attentive as they stared down at the taller skeleton.

What the _fuck_ was he supposed to do now?

Gaster wasn’t one for comforting or... physical affection, it only came out as awkward and bogus from him. Perhaps there were some monsters out there who would think that he would be, in some shape or form, oddly _cuddly_. But he was constructed from cold, hard bones, a simple once-over from him could(and have) give people the shivers. He knew that, and he took advantage of it as much as he could. It was what he had learned from his late father, how if he acted austere and stiff, which he already was, no one with antagonistic aims would dare approach him or his family. It was unorthodox, even his father conceded that, but that’s why it _worked_ , and continued to work.

The scientist sighed in defeat and took a seat on the bed, one of his legs neatly folded on top of another. The skeletons merely watched and observed each other, the younger’s shoulder blades gradually releasing its tension as their eyelight softened and brightened, eventually returning to their book once they deemed the older not a threat, still throwing wary glances at him every so often.

Gaster frowned and pursed his nonexistent lips, crossing his arms. Cherub was, _at least_ , pacified, but being ignored and disregarded like he was a waste of magic was no better. They were acting like a grouchy, sulky child, which he had to tell himself that they _were_ , but even with the experience of two sons under his belt he was at a lost at what to do. What could possibly get their attention without him startling them again and lose the rest of their trust?

As tenderly and as paternally as he could, Gaster spoke the name he had given them. “ ** _Cherub_**.”

The skeleton in question looked back at him, wide-socket and awestruck, not knowing that the scientist could speak at all. He could only weakly smile in response, summoning his ghostly hands to start cleaning up the mess encircling them. It didn’t come as much as a surprise that they would be able to understand and comprehend his Font, they were, as eccentric and aberrant as they were, a skeleton.

**_“You supposed I was mute like you are, hmm?_** ” There was a joking, good-natured undertone to his voice, easing the child further as they placed the book down onto the floor. He usually refrained himself from speaking too frequently, especially after he heard his peers, teachers and coworkers alike commenting on how his voice was ‘grinding to the ears, as if someone was scratching chalkboard amplified by a thousand’.

He pretended that he didn’t feel the least bit offended.

“ ** _I must apologise for that_** ,” Gaster continued, eyelights absently watching his manifested hands fold the previously creasing duvets into trimmed squares. “ ** _Decades of having only a limited few understand my... ‘articulation’ has forced me into the habit. I could, if you would like, communicate like this from now on._** ” His face grew more hopeful, more optimistic as his magic finished making the bed.

Cherub nodded eagerly, their temporary peeve having been replaced by glutinous curiosity as they creeped towards him with leaden steps. They scrabbled until they were a metre or so away and guardedly sat, the distance between the two monsters far enough for them to react quick enough to make a run for it if need be.

The scientist appraised the scene with a perplexed yet fascinated expression on his features, his crooked smile stretching. Cherub was learning to be vigilant and alert! It mattered not if it was because of him, or if it was because of some _other_ external factor, it still meant that they had the capacity of self-preservation, the will to live, the textbook definition of Determination! (Perhaps he was stretching a bit there, but he felt like he deserved a moment to feel positive and cheerful.)

His pair of hovering hands moved from his lap to pick up the book Cherub had left discarded at the crook of the room, inspecting the hard cover and turning to the Table of Contents once his hands had returned to him. He stayed like that for a minute, in his own world of inner thoughts as he contemplated his next words, his smile fading into a troubled, thin line.

“ ** _I..._** ” He hesitated, his phalanges fiddling with the top of the pages. Would the child even care if he said this? They forgot the experience easily enough, but he also needed to speak to them about their newly manifested magic, he had to find a way to breach the topic without scaring them off again.

~~_Stars, it was so much easier with her around._ ~~

“ _ **I must also apologise about... my earlier behaviour**_ ,” Shit, why was he always so bad at this? Why did he always have to be so blunt, direct and on the nose? Now it was just a matter of time before they registered in his words and they’d snub him out for the rest of of his puny existence- “ ** _I... am known to go on nights without rest, you see, and... if gone on for too long may make me... jittery, in a sense._** ”

Cherub, on the other hand, looked more amused than anything, their shoulders hunching in silent laughter as their single socket crinkled in delight. ~~Just like Sans’ does~~. They brought their hands together, raising them to be directly in his line of sight before signing a slow, maladroit but intelligible “ _It is fine._ ”

Gaster felt this... peculiar emotion wash over him, battering him like a mammoth tidal wave. It was a sketchy memory, but somewhere in his scarred, cracked SOUL he knew he had felt it before. It was the same intense sentiment he felt when he saw both his sons take their first steps, when he had watched his eldest’s high school graduation, ~~when she had gawked at the newly completed CORE and then back at him, goggling at him like he was the only thing in the entire Underground that ever mattered.~~ Was it a sense of... pride? Was he proud of Cherub? Proud that they had managed to learn from him and remembered enough to sign back?

He let out an wobbly chuckle as his expression alleviated into a more warm and sincere visage, only now realising how this may have just been the first time he had ever fully put his guard down around the child. “ ** _Then you must have many questions, I assume?_** ”

Cherub nodded again, their position more relaxed and reposed as they rested their fists on their patella, spine sagged forward as if they were about to listen in on a secret. It was instances like these where Gaster was reminded how truly innocent and credulous they were, how they had so much left to be taught and shown, how they still had to be informed of their lack of a SOUL(if they haven’t figured it out already) and of their forthcoming destiny. 

There was a minuscule part of him that was begging, almost _imploring_ him to stop this, to grant Cherub MERCY, to adopt and take care of them like a parent would. For why should he put so much responsibility onto an oblivious child who knows no better? Why should he allow them to bear what the King could not? Why should he let history repeat itself for the ~~third~~ second time?

~~He was too far gone to consider any alternatives, that’s why.~~

“ _ **What we were in is what we call an ENCOUNTER**_ ,” He began as he mentally shook off his upsetting thoughts, instead settling his attention onto the skeleton child who was _very_ interested in what he had to say, nearly to the point where he found it comical. “ ** _When one initiates an ENCOUNTER, the environment surrounding them decolourises and disappears, while your opponent will be bleached white._ **“

“ ** _If you were to have an human as your adversary, however_** ,” He continued, strenuously tryingto circumvent reminiscing his youth as he pried his hands off the book, not wanting a repeat of the lesson three days earlier. “ ** _You would summon their SOUL out of their body, lighting the arena in the colour of their trait, this is due to their SOULs being an area of highly concentrated, closely-packed magic. Ours, in contrary to theirs, are our entire bodies. Our magic, and in extension our forms, reflect the state of our SOULS, this is the reason why we are subject to a phenomenon we dub Intent._**”

With the the way Cherub’s phalanges were twitching and curling Gaster could tell they wanted to inquire more about SOULs, but he couldn’t let them- not just yet, that was to be a convoluted, complicated conversation for another day. He needed to deflect their probing.

“ ** _Intent is everything to us, Cherub, it is the foundation and the footing of our way of life. If we will our magic to heal the sick and wounded, then our Intent will translate that will into palpable, tangible green magic. If we wish for harm to befall another, then our Intent will interpret that and guide the magic of our SOULs and materialise it into fire, bones, spears, or however it thinks is best suited for each individual._** ”

The child was looking borderline _enlivened_ now, their body language transparently indicating that they wanted him to start another ENCOUNTER, at... 5 am in the morning, no less! He had to quickly backpedal before the situation derailed out of his hands, feeling how the air was already reacting and ionising to the young skeleton’s materialising excitement.

“ _ **Cherub**_ ,” he said their name again, this time more firm and commanding, wanting the child to know that he still had authority over them. “ ** _I understand if you wish for me to... further elaborate, but I need not remind you how revoltingly early it is. You will need these precious few hours of sleep if we are to have another demonstration, a subject matter as broad as the way we do battle can not possibly be entirely covered with a few unscripted footnotes, after all._** ”

The skeleton could only glower in response, their socket momentarily jerking in indignation as their eyelight darted down to their porcelain feet, taking in his words. Gaster knew that they were clever enough to acknowledge that he was withholding information, but he preferred not to elucidate to a child why they had been born SOULless when it was not even dawn yet, and him being so high strung barely an hour ago also did not help in the slightest. He needed time to ponder and pull together his fragmented thoughts, he needed to prepare for what _could_ happen.

Cherub- albeit reluctantly- accepted his lacklustre excuse and unhurriedly crawled onto the bed, getting themself comfortable as they plunked next to him. They looked back at him with an expectant eye, subtly gesturing towards the history book beside him that he had as good as forgottenabout.

Once again, Gaster was struck with how similar the child was to his sons, to how little Papryus would patiently wait by the door of his bedroom in an effort to get him to read to him every night, even when when he would always fall asleep two minutes in.

The scientist let out another pained exhale, resigning to his cruel, _cruel_ fate as his summoned hands found the page that Cherub had left on. With a gentle pat on the child’s head he began to read in hushed murmurs.

“ ** _Once word spread out that our crown prince had been brought back from the dead, the self-exiled Queen..._** ”

They were already snoring through their nasal ridge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *EDIT: Changed the title of this chapter, decided that the previous one should be used at a later date! 
> 
> This is gonna be the only chapter this week, I got my Chem and Chinese finals later this Friday! Kinda surprised I managed to post this one, to be honest. 
> 
> ~~okay, I’m still pretty proud of myself for that wingding joke, even if it was terrible-~~
> 
> I think 3,500 words would be a decent average for each chapter, enough for me to flesh out and expand the characters little by little. But I gotta apologise if this one seemed a little... slow compared to the rest, the next one will be a lot more interesting, I swear! I may not finish it until next week, but I’ll just have to see how my schedule fairs with the horror that is physics revision. 
> 
> Also! Eagle eyed viewers may have noticed there’s a contradiction here with chapter 5. Sans states in that chapter that Gaster missed his High school graduation, but he actually didn’t! He was just late and sitting in the back, but he had to go back to work before he could go up and congratulate him ;) 
> 
> Toodles!


	8. Time Is Relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherub learns a little something about their magic.

You woke up from a dreamless sleep.

You scratched at your eye socket, bleary eyelight refocusing as you took in your surroundings. It definitely looked... cleaner than you last remembered. Your fortress of limitless knowledge was gone, its constituents placed back into the bookshelf opposite of you, your duvets and pillows also somehow ended up on your bed again... what _happened_ last night?

Did you, somehow in a sleep-glazed state, decided that a tidying up was required? Even so, whendid you ever learn how to fold blankets into symmetrical shapes? Or was that an innate skill that monsters apparently had? Then why did Twigs never-

_Twigs_.

Your memories of last night instantly came flooding back as you fully awoke. You not being able to fall asleep for the second consecutive day, getting so immensely frustrated at yourself and with everything around you to the point where you couldn’t think straight. You barging out of your room in a fit of repressed emotions until you collided straight into Twigs, who, in his own daze, apparently initiated an ENCOUNTER with you...

...

You heard his voice, his _voice_! You had no idea he had one! It sounded almost like the chimes you’d hear from his chest: loud, stern and demanding, as if he could command an entire battalion with it alone. Then why doesn’t he speak like that with his assistants? They may be fluent in Sign but surely it must be easier for both sides of the conversation if he were to be more verbal? Or were they just not the ‘limited few’ that the scientist was talking about?

And if so, who exactly were these ‘limited few’?

That's gonna be another burning question to add to your ever growing list of Twigs-related inquires, the top two on said list being ‘Why do you not like talking about yourself so much?’ And ‘Do you not have a life outside of this laboratory?’

And he was... surprisingly caring after he spooked you with those gargantuan laser skulls of his, he even cleaned up your grimy room and read to you! But maybe it was _because_ of that he was behaving so softhearted, and never in your now six days of living(how old was Twigs anyway?) did he ever seem genuinely genial with you or with his coworkers, so perhaps this would be just a one-time occurrence?... or was he just trying to get you to care about him and make you do whatever he asks of you with false affection?

You weren’t sure what to think about that.

Shunning the possibility of him being manipulative you decide to think about _much_ more pleasant thoughts, such as the chance of finally learning what these ‘SOULs’ are, or... your newly manifested magic! You couldn’t help but feel a bit giddy at the prospect, those history classes had really painted magic as these fantastical, astounding abilities that all monsters can’t live without, and you were able to see why when you observed the people around you. A blaring example was Inermus, and being the ~~useless~~ armless lizard he was, you noticed he had to direct his ice magic to form makeshift laboratory tools as he worked, a talent he told you only a couple have mastered.

You were beginning to get curious on exactly what _you_ had in terms of magical capacity. You now knew from last night that you could conjure up bones, but could you also summon awesome floating skulls like Twigs did? Could you also perform blue magic that he so seemingly oftentimes do? Could you make objects, and in extension yourself, _float_?!

Could you-

...?

_Woah_.

You were feeling something... entirely _new_ , something that was very much unlike your acquainted irksome irritation and boundless curiosity. It was pulsating in your sternum,centralising around your chest and then spreading out throughout your entire body like those doses of potent green magic Twigs and his gang would administer to you every so often. It was _revitalising_ , as if you could do the impossible and more as long as this sensation stayed with you.

Your room was suddenly painted in a piercing golden light, so brilliant and striking it probably would have blinded your single socket if you hadn’t reacted fast enough. The glow remained like this for a few seconds, caking your surroundings as if the Sun itself decided to come down from the Surface to pay you and your little humble abode a visit.

You eventually pried your socket away from your hands, peeking from your clawed phalanges to gawk at whatever-the-hell was the source of the radiance. It appeared to be this... iridescent amber star? (your theory of the Sun invading your bedroom wasn’t too far-fetched, after all) It was four-pointed, but its form was shifting and contorting uncontrollably, its shape fluctuating betweena star and a bulbous, swelling mass, like it was unstable, tottering the edge of reality and nonbeing.

You ambled your way towards the star, your mind transfixed as you slowly reached out to touch it. Once you creeped closer you noted that there were numerous cracks decorating its surface, all gleaming a dull dark purple beneath all the blonde. It looked like it was acting as some type of... viscous adhesive for the star, like it was the only thing keeping it from breaking apart completely.

The tips of your phalanges lightly trailed across it, that invigorating feeling from before immediately intensifying tenfold as you jolted and quavered in alarm. The star twinkled in response, its glint intense again as its structure sharpened, its edges more defined and honed.   
  
  


  
  


Okaayyy, that was uh... _very_ _new_ _and different._   


  
You’re pretty sure you just got forcefully smacked in the face and everywhere else with the most hardy wave of pure, unconfined magic you had felt so far, even that burst you felt from Twigs’ magic last night(or was it earlier this morning?)couldn’t come close to comparing. If you weren’t stirred from sleep before you certainly were now, perhaps you should let Twigs and his assistants in on some of this action too, so maybe then they wouldn’t have a dire need to abuse that poor coffee maker a dozen times each day.   
  


But you should also consider where _exactly_ this... rejuvenation star (you also should ponder that you may have a thing for giving everything you were ignorant and uneducated of random, arbitrary names) came from. Was this... a component of your magic? Was it one of your powers? To give you(and feasibly, others) a big boost both physically and mentally?

It wasn’t exactly perilous dragon skulls, but you really couldn’t find it in yourself to complain. You could _totally_ work with this, maybe even become expertly dextrous at it! You couldn’t wait to tell Twigs about this. You knew the femur you manifested in that ENCOUNTER was what he wanted to speak to you about last night, (among other things. You were starting to read his face and expressions pretty proficiently now) but he just _had to_ save it for today. With this new, raw energy coursing through your porcelain bones you felt like you could kick those horrifying beasts straight in their toothy mouths without breaking a sweat! Maybe now with you no longer fragile and helpless Twigs could finally let you explore the rest of the Underground.   
  
  


But... how do you get it to go away? Because it definitely looked like it was only getting more permanently etched into the air in front of you, its dimensions now immutably settling as splintered honey-coloured star. Those scientists admittedly have made it look a lot more easier than it actually was...

Wait. Didn’t Twig explain something about your ’Intent’?

So... you essentially had to ‘really mean it’? Well, you unquestionably wanted it gone now that you’ve used it, and you weren’t sure if Twigs would have a positive reaction to having to shield his eye sockets if he decided to enter your room at this exact moment. But... what if it needed to stay planted there if you wanted to continue feeling like this? What if you could only summon one at a time and had to wait for hours in order to utilise it again? _What if this_ is _the only one you could ever make in your entire lifetime?!_

Okay... okay. Calm down there, trooper. It is _not_ the time to get so melodramatic, you just _started_ to use your magic, of course you won’t be that deft at it. You can’t just conquer everything there is about Intent in just a day! Control yourself, Cherub, it is not the end of the world just because your magic decided to not listen to you for _just one time_!

Gah, you were getting crossed with yourself again. Why couldn’t you just be satisfied with what you already had? Why couldn’t you just accept the fact that you weren’t normal, _that you were born abnormal and incomplete and-_

Deep breaths. _Deep breaths._ This was _supposed_ to be a ‘happy’ occasion. There is no use ruining it and getting so worked up, knowing it will only make you ever the more irrational and illogical. You already acknowledge that you _will_ get the answers you want, that you _will_ understand why Twigs made you this way and that you _will_ find out exactly what your purpose is. 

  
  
Even if you had to FIGHT that evasive skeleton to get them.

After another minute of tense, anxious self-meditation you marched your way towards the metal door of the bedroom, unaware of the four-pointed star shining even more vividly than before, the sangria lacing the crevices flickering to join its dominant golden radiance.

* * *

Maybe after that near disaster of yours you were expecting a bit... _more_ happening outside your room. But instead you were greeted with the unanticipated sight of Twigs gaping ruefully at the floor, one of his assistants, a shorter, stocky monster you think was named Ginger looking apologetically at the skeleton.   
  


“I know it was your favourite, Doctor, but accidents _do_ happen, and we will have to clean up this place sooner or later.”

” _The king had given it to me as a gift when I first was promoted to Royal Scientist, Ginger, it is a great shame that I had been careless enough to drop it, it is one...”_

You perked a boney brow, intrigued and inquisitive. You took another curious step, neck craning around the two conversing figures to get a better look at the scene. There it was, shattered into multiple ceramic pieces and laid out across the floor was Twigs favourite colossally sized mug, the one you had dubbed ‘Flower Power’. A cup’s worth of black coffee was aimlessly splattered throughout as well, having long dried out and stuck to the walls and ground alike. No wonder Twigs was so downtrodden, he had forsaken his one true beloved! Oh, the horror!

You couldn't understand _why_ he couldn’t just get a simple replacement. Why was it such a big deal in the first place? It was practically cracking even without his help, and then he’d have to deal with scalding, sizzling dark brown liquid getting all over his coat and pants, stains that you had learned as a wandering spectator weren’t too easy to clean off. It breaking now sounded much more like a win than a loss to you. It just made _logical_ sense! 

  
You took a moment to scan Twigs and Ginger’s forms as they continued chattering, the former’s reverberating hum being as thunderous and husky as usual, a booming, ionised maelstrom that no one would dare to be caught in. The latter’s...

Huh...?

... that’s strange.

Could a monster’s chimes change overnight?

Your single socket squinted as you strained your senses to listen to his peals again. They were familiar enough to recognise that it was still the same monster, if you hadn’t been listening attentively you most likely would have never caught on the slight change in frequency and amplitude. But what were you supposed to do with this new information? You did not know much of these... ‘songs’ to judge them correctly, what if that was just... normal for them to just alter every now and then? You’ve already seen that the thrums could adjust depending on a monster’s mood, so what if Ginger, for some unknown reason, was jubilant and overjoyed?... but _what if_ it was an adverse medical condition?   
  


You’ll have to ask him about that.   
  
  
You were abruptly snapped out of your torpor when the two monsters in question finally looked down at you, varying degrees of shock coating their faces. Twigs was the first to recover, a tight smile on his scarred face as he took you in while you did the same.

He looked... reasonably better than the last time you saw him, that’s for sure. He still had his perpetual bags under his eye sockets, but the way he was now posturing himself no longer made him looked like he had the weight of the whole Underground on his shoulder blades (or maybe it was, bearing in mind what he had told you of his position as Royal Scientist) as he fixed you with the same stern, cold stare you had grown accustomed to. His summoned hands hovered beside him, continuing to sign for the benefit of his assistant.

” _You are awake. Good. We must not dawdle then... assuming you are ready_?” The skeleton purposely drawled, his eyelights scanning your face for any indication of a refusal. You fervently nodded back at him, acknowledging the other monster standing awkwardly by with a chaste bow, a gesture you had been taught by Twigs in his ‘proper monster etiquette’ class the second day after your emergence.

You really only did it to humour Twigs and his coworkers. Why did it matter if you sat the correct way or not? Why did it matter if you walked a bit more eccentrically compared to the taller skeleton? Was there even such thing as a ‘ _correct way_ ’? 

  
You were _very_ tempted to say no, to instead mischievously fire some fingerguns every time one of them wanted to greet you, or to sit on Twig’s workshop table in the most crude, barbaric way possible to see if the skeleton had the capability to really laugh. It wasn’t like they could do anything to you just because they had no senses of humour, so why couldn’t you have a bit of fun with them?  
  


“ _Ginger. Get Mabel to clean this mess and meet me downstairs afterwards. We have a demonstration to do_.”   
  
  


Did Twigs just say ‘downstairs’...?

The smaller monster’s expression was one of dull surprise, his oval, grey eyes wide and mouth ajar until it shifted into a exultant, expectant smile. “Of course, Doctor, right away.” He promptly glanced at you, looking akin to an apex predator having found their meal, his mouth slowly curving to meet his eyes. It was kinda... no, _really_ creepy. Why in Asgore’s fluffybuns did Twigs have such unsettling monsters as followers?! And finding out that his chimes were now... atypical did not soothe the situation in the slightest, it only proved to make his visage all the more unnerving!

Maybe you should tell Twigs about this? Just to make sure that he’s still trustworthy?

  
... nah, he knew Ginger for much, much longer than you have. Who are you to say what ’ordinary’ is? ~~Just look at you~~. 

The skeleton beckoned for you to follow him once Ginger was out of sight, casting one final sorrowful glimpse at his mug’s unfortunate fate. You remarked that his slouch was discernible again, as if the professional version of him was a separate being entirely, only a continual facade for the monsters around him. But this was the _real_ W.D Gaster: the overworked, exhausted scientist who had almost killed you last night, the skeleton who always seemed to be lonely despite the people around him, the one, who for some reason you didn’t quite understand just yet, was the closest thing to a father you had.  
  


But you doubted he wanted you to call him that. He looked more or less... terrified to get close to you, like he was worried about what would happen. He had been putting you at arm’s length the entire time you’ve known him, the only moments he ever touched you being last night and the bath he gave you days ago. But what you didn’t know was if all of this effort was for your own protection or _his_.   
  


You really setting yourself for a long, _long_ talk, huh?   
  
  
You trailed after the scientist, excitement and interest obvious on your boney features as you neared the elevator. The irony didn’t go unnoticed by you, however, as just hours ago you remembered you had wanted to escape with said contraption, how glad you were now to not have went with _that_ plan. Who knew where you would be if you had escaped? ~~Probably dead in a ditch somewhere.~~

You both entered the elevator in comfortable silence, eyelight darting from one iron corner to the next. It was... larger than you expected, more than enough to fit Twigs and his entire crew in here with some room to spare. The well-maintained floor buttons were wired to the wall behind you, taking nearly all your restraint to not push all of them at once.

” ** _Did you sleep well?_** ”

You jumped ungraciously at the sound of the scientist’s voice, if you had a mouth and a voice you surely would have shrieked a little. (Maybe a lot) You glared back at Twigs once you got back your bearings, the taller skeleton having the audacity to look... amused at your situation. _Great_. He had a brow raised, his eyelights bright and serrated as he folded his arms behind his back.

You almost forgot to answer in your annoyance, holding out your hands in front of yourself to ineptly sign back. “ _Fine. Did not have to scare me like that_.”

Twigs laughed, actually _laughed_ in response, his nonexistent lips quirking in mirth as his phalanges twiddled with the fabric of his lab coat. You, on the other hand, did not find your meaningless suffering funny. You could only shoot him a deadpan look before the elevator doors opened, revealing...

...

You did not expect _this_ to be under a laboratory.   
  


It was a futuristic looking armoury, an open area with every inch of the walls donned with unique pieces of armour and weaponry, all displayed like trophies. Maces, axes, swords and chainmail sets alike were all included in the decor, none exempted in what you could practically describe as an exhibition. 

  
“ ** _Ah. Captain Gerson had much say on what the armoury would look like. I apologise if it seems... exuberant and overzealous_**.”   
  


You absently bobbed your head in reply, your eyelight trained on all the... ‘furnishing’. You wondered how ancient some of these were, if they were dated all the way back to the old War or even more. Most if not all of the weapons had coats of red rust on them, no longer serviceable but still staples of monster history. Twigs had told you once that monster soldiers would infuse their gear with their magic, allowing them to channel their abilities through a dagger, hammer or whatever they were using for better control and flexibility. Nowadays it was more common to directly guide one’s magic to form a weapon, even if it may be substantially weaker than a forged blade.  
  


“ _ **Come**_ ,” The elder skeleton signalled once more, taking long strides across the armoury until he stopped at the edge of a white square in the centre of the room, its paint fading at the rims. “ ** _Let us begin, Cherub, it is time for us to see your full potential._** ”

You quietly obeyed and meandered until you were precisely opposite of him, still enraptured by your new surroundings. Who did all of these belong to? Monsters or humans? Did Twigs himself used to wield any of them? You eventually tore your sockets away from the walls to look back at the scientist, who in turn was waiting patiently for you to finish ogling, flexing his digits as a second pair of ghost hands manifested beside him.

  
  


You waved at him, catching his attention just as his socket started to twitch restlessly. The skeleton nodded back at you, his stance straightening as he readied himself for an ENCOUNTER. You, however, had not the slightest clue on what to do. Last time you weren’t given the option to prepare, taken _very_ off-guard by an insomniac Twigs, but now that you do... were you supposed to do some stretches? Did you have to say something? Was there an entire process to this??

” ** _Calm yourself,_** ” Twigs cooed, noticing your panicked state as his expression jerked in alarm, trying to sound as reassuring as he could. “ _ **There are no preparatory rituals before you initiate an ENCOUNTER. You must simply hold out your arm, yes, just like that, and call out to my SOUL and concentrate your Intent. All your thoughts must be one...**_ ”

You desperately hoped you were doing this right. You must look like an idiot with your arm outstretched and clawing at empty air, trying to find the strands that could connect your magic with Twig’s. Why did he have to make everything look so darn easy?! All you had to do was just focus all your Intent to the task at hand, and concentrate...

_...!_

Your magic managed to latch onto the strands, grasping and tethering his SOUL to your will. You did not need to be told that _this_ was the source of Twigs’ echoing chimes and hums, the origin of his dragon skulls and the rest of his suffocating magic. This _was_ the culmination of his being, everything he was, is and ever will be. 

You firmly clasped onto it, your phalanges curled as if you were holding onto something truly physical and tangible, even if it was obscured and protected by Twig’s ribcage. You could feel the stifling magic of his SOUL bump and react against your own, but this time you were better equipped, and almost instinctively, you pull-

And out goes the colours of the armoury, all draining like water flowing down a sink, becoming the same black and white as the figure before you. You and Twigs were in complete darkness once more, with nothing but him(and you, presumably) illuminating the inky environment.

Twigs gave you an approving look, a hint of a proud smile gracing his features as one pair of his disembodied hands silently floated behind him, signing as he started to speak. “ _ **Now that we are in an ENCOUNTER, there are a few things you must be fully aware of.**_ ”

You suddenly heard a noise, a resounding _click,_ ringing like it was nowhere and everywhere all at once. It was followed by a thud of magic washing over you, not quite as overpowering as the star from earlier but still sufficient enough to make you shiver. Was Twigs already using his magic on you?  
  


The skeleton appeared to be concentrating on... something, his sockets squinting as he surveyed your form, looking as if he was... reading? Reading _what_ exactly? Were you wearing something that had text on it and you never noticed?   
  


“ _ **What I just did was a CHECK**_ ,” Twigs’ scratchy voice cut through the air after a minute or so, stopping you from delving further into your agitating thoughts. “ **As per the honoured tradition of an ENCOUNTER the provoked will always have the first turn, which I had used to see into your STATs and current state of mind. Focus and** **do the same to me.** ”

  
Your expression scrunched up in confusion and thoughtfulness, taking in this new information. Twig’s words somehow explained nothing to you; were these CHECKS what monsters usually did for their first turns? Was that what he was reading just moments before? So he was reading all your thoughts?? Did you consent to that without you knowing??

(You supposed you did give your permission, since it was you who wanted to do this in the first place)

  
Ignoring your sense of growing dread and flushed embarrassment you focused your Intent on reciprocating, aimlessly poking around the threads of Twig’s magic. You weren’t exactly sure on what you were searching for, but prodding around will still get the job done eventually, right? You just had to relax and try not to overreact for the third time-

  


... where did all those words come from?? It was like you were reading a book that was embedded into your eye socket! Or your mind was by some means reading off code that you couldn’t see, it was even occupied by a singsong cadence that you think was your own. Was that really what a CHECK was...?

” ** _I could feel a slight nudge at my SOUL just now. I assume the CHECK went successfully, then?_** ” Twig’s voice was the only thing keeping you grounded, his grin growing soft and honest as he cocked his head in an almost childlike manner. “ _ **I hope it had not revealed any of my deepest, darkest secrets.**_ ”

Was he... trying to lighten the mood for you?

You must’ve been a lot more transparent than you thought. ~~Though you were pretty curious on what your flavour text unveiled to him.~~

 ~~  
  
~~“ ** _Now with that out of the way, let us get into the battle itself_** ,” Twig’s stance was stiff but unyielding, one of his floating hands subtly twisting behind him as a row of cyan coloured bones came hurling your way, their edges sharp and dangerous. “ _ **Cyan magic is pivotal among skeletons, a colour that is regularly utilised for sparring between both children and adults. All you need to do, Cherub, is to Stay. Still.**_ ”

His order did not go unheeded by you as you froze rigid still, a chilling, crisp sensation proliferating through your body as the summoned bones phased through you, dissipating once the scientist’s turn ended.   
  


“ _ **Cherub**_ ,” He called to you again, studying your bemused, inexperienced form. “ _ **You now have the options to FIGHT, SPARE me, or use any ITEM in your inventory. But when true commotion**_ _ **transpires between two or more monsters, most would have to ACT in order to placate their adversary.**_ ”   
  


You nodded in concession, sifting through your choices. The most evident course of action was to ACT and grant MERCY to Twigs, but you were sure that he wanted to see more of what _you_ could do, so you most likely had to choose to FIGHT him instead. You will just have to be mindful of your Intent and not-

Foreign magic much disparate from Twigs’ own was sent catapulting into your chest. The air blown out of your nonexistent lungs as you fell onto your knees, nearly buckling and tripping over your toes in a haste to regain balance. You swerved your head to look at the source of the commotion, your socket widening at the sight of a panic-stricken Ginger stumbling into your ENCOUNTER, tugging and gouging at his face, his arms, everywhere-

“ _ **Ginger, what are you doing**_ -“

You couldn’t hear the rest of Twig’s demand as the assistant sent another barrage of magic at your sternum, unformed and unsteady, slicing and lacerating into all of your brittle bones as if they were made of butter, the Intent behind it clear, concise and malicious.   
  


Everything was moving so, _so_ fast, the armoury spinning profusely in your vision as you fell onto your bleeding(?!) back, already feeling the short few seconds of a monster’s end. You were dying, decaying, _crumbling_ into nothing but a pile of coarse ash, you knowing in the back of your mind that it was utterly _meaningless_ to try and stop it. The remaining willpower you had left only allowed you to impassively stare at your feet, arms and hands, watching as they all disintegrated into shimmering dust. There was someone screaming and screeching at you, both their voice and appearance muddled and opaque as you finally slipped away from consciousness, wearily shutting your eye socket to fully give into the enticing temptation...

And just like that, you felt nothing.

_Were_ nothing.   
  
  


And continued _to be_ nothing. 

Until there was a radiating, discharging warmth, tickling at what you thought was now nothing more than just ashen grains. It was gently coaxing you back, back into the life you had so regrettably lost, pulling on the residual magic that you had left behind. Its heat grew more and more intense as it hollered to you, urging you to Persevere and stay Determined as it kept trawling, dragging and tearing at the framework of existence itself.

And just like that, you were returned to reality, no Twigs and Ginger in sight.

You were now standing in front of the same four-pointed golden star from hours ago, flaring and sparkling in tandem with your magic, its shine even more brilliant than before. Your room was looking as normal and ordinary as ever, the books and blankets all unassumingly put into their rightful places, as if you weren’t just brutally murdered by one of Twigs’ most trusted colleagues.   
  


You took a seat on your mattress, tightly wrapping your arms around yourself as you tried to gather and make sense of all your scuffling, tussling thoughts. You _died_ and came back, all thanks to your buddy a few feet away from you. You remember as vividly as the star itself how you dissolved into obscurity and oblivion, how all your limbs were trying to wretchedly rectify the malevolent Intent done on you, how appalled Twigs must have been to feebly watch you dust right in front of him. How... h-how...

” ** _Oh thank fuck you SAVED_**.” 

You barely glanced up to meet the eyelights of a disheveled, trembling Twigs, his features rapidly morphing between fear, relief and fury. But just before he could say or do anything further the pocket of his pants started vibrating, a loud, catchy tune following soon after.

The now very disgruntled Twigs growled and bared his teeth as he fished his phone out, his phalanges practically stabbing at the screen to silence the ringtone. He put it up to where his ears would be, his expression once again contorting into a range of different emotions as he listened to whoever was on the other side of the line, his visage eventually deciding on a mix of petrifying fright and feral exasperation. 

You gave him a questioning look, curiosity momentarily overriding your own despair as his fixed you with a conflicted look of his own, gritting his teeth further as he very nearly crushed his phone from the sheer stress of it all.   
  


“ _ **It is my eldest son, I... I was informed that he may be in the first stage of Falling Down**_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooopp lots of things going on in this chapter, sorry if it seemed too... crowded, but I felt like this was the right choice if we ever were gonna go anywhere with the plot, so just bear with me and believe that it’ll be smooth story-telling from here on out.
> 
> But the heck is going on with Sans? Well... remember how his magic was ‘a little out of whack’ as he put it? Perhaps Cherub’s LOAD has something to do with it... 
> 
> Oh yeah, both Sans/Asriel POV next, more lore building, more angst, more reasons to hate Gaster! (probably)
> 
> EDIT I honestly don’t know what date it is: Sooooo I figured out how to add textboxes! I think I’ll only do this for the SAVE points and the CHECKS as I ain’t gonna convert everything Chara narrates into a GIF, it would be wayyyy too time consuming, especially in the later chapters when Cherub and Chara start interacting more.


	9. Bowl of Cherries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel tends to his princely duties.

It was 5:30 am and Asriel still hadn’t slept.

Or done anything remotely productive.

Or moved from his spot on the balcony at all.

The young boss monster sighed exasperatedly through his nose, his head in his arms as he contemplated and brooded his enigmatic existence. He’s been brought back from dust and yet here he was spending it all on feeling sorry for himself, or on thinking and _thinking_ about past experiences that no one except for him and one stringent skeleton remember. _Should_ he even be doing this? Wasn’t it considered ‘unhealthy behaviour’ to continue living in the past? Was it fair for his parents, who had grieved in their own ways for hundreds of years and now were blessed with the miracle of rebirth?

Sometimes he’s _too_ empathetic, he mused, but he supposed it was better than the alternative. Spending the rest of his sorry life as a empty, sociopathic flower did not sound appealing in the slightest, so at least he had that going for him, right?

He was glad that Gaster resurrected him before he became too... unhinged, he couldn’t imagine living with the entire kingdom’s deaths on his conscious, ~~the Royal Scientist’s son alone was already too unbearable.~~ He remembered just a couple RESETs ago that he had entertained the idea of killing his _parents_ , the only two people in his life that he loved as much as he loved Chara, just because he couldn’t reciprocate the affection they were giving him...

He really was insufferable, wasn’t he?

Asriel had forgotten how long ago it was when he was first turned info a flower, the years worth of LOADs and RESETs muddling his spotty memory to the point where he no longer knew what was real or only a fabrication of his chaotic mind. But even if this timeline was two years old, his growing horns and height being definite proof of that, he did not _feel_ like he was 14, nor did he feel like he was an adult either, just a burdened, tormented monster who would be furthered burdened with the weight of all his citizens on his shoulders.

~~Maybe he should take up on that therapist offer before his coronation.~~

He tiredly gazed up, admiring the natural moonlight from the Surface. The pale, muted rays were seeping through the few holes they had in the Underground, casting a ghostly sheen on the Capital as they danced in tandem, following the movement of the moon itself. It looked... wistful, but the newly sealed monsters from centuries ago had still rushed to make a home for themselves here, trying to get as close as possible to the world above; the Judgement Hall was one of the few examples of complexes built specially to fit in as much light as possible, being the first room in the entire Underground to receive the early golden beams of dawn.

But now it was crowding, overpopulated and dense. More and more Capital-born monsters were migrating towards the outskirts of the Dreemurr kingdom, to places like Snowdin and its inner woodlands. Proposals have recently been put into place to expand the village into a city of its own, rivalling the size of both Old and New Home.

He had visited the snowy town once before, hundreds of years ago when he had barely learned to walk, deciding that he ‘was a big monster now’ and went with his father to do his weekly rounds.The adults greeted the two royals with warm smiles and hugs, grateful of the presents the King had given to their children every time he visited to dress up as Santa for Gyftmas or was invited to speak at their school. They gawked and cooed over the adorable Crown Prince, feeding him Snowdin specialties such as Nice Cream and Cinnamon Buns until his father had politely told them that he was ‘already as plump as can be due to a certain Queen’s favourite pastime’.

He knew his father enjoyed bringing his citizens together, unifying his people as one giant family of all shapes and sizes, even continuing to do so after his and Chara’s demises along with his mother so abruptly leaving him to mourn alone and pick up the fractured pieces. ~~He never was the same jolly monster after that.~~

Asriel could only ever wonder how much guilt the poor king had to endure and live with, how many times he felt his SOUL excruciatingly crack with each new human he killed, how he could not bear to look at them in the eyes when his trident impaled them through their still beating hearts, how much pressure he must have felt from his people to absorb the reaped SOULs and destroy humanity once and for all, how much he must have yearned for his queen to return and rule alongside him.

There was a tiny part of him that resented his mother for forsaking him like that, for forsaking their seemingly imperishable bond, for forsaking the millenniums they had spent together through thick and thin, through peace and war. Did _none_ of it ever mean anything to her? Did she not understood Asgore well enough to know that he would deeply regret his actions? That he depended on her as much as she did with him?

These were questions Asriel would not and could not ask, for he knew that neither of his parents would have a direct answer or even a meagre response to make up for it. Perhaps it was the added stress of their citizens progressively pushing them to find a way to break the Barrier, perhaps it was only because of him and Chara, or perhaps it was some other factor he had never accounted for that tipped them both over the edge. He just _knew_ the only reason the queen returned from her self-exile in the Ruins was because of him, never because she felt _remorse_ or _contrition_ for disappearing when the kingdom needed her most, when _her husband_ needed her the most.

The young prince could only Hope that their partnership could and will be mended, but now that he was alive again and they no longer had forever to deal with their grievances like sensible monarchs should, he highly doubted that his mother would ever find it in herself to fully forgive him, much less get back together. What they had currently was a distant, professional relationship, one with monotone voices over plentiful council meetings and awkward glances of acknowledgment towards each other in the hallways, no more, no less. And once all was said and done he was more than sure that the acting queen would abdicate and dash as far away as she could from Asgore, parting him once more with a new snowballing pile of personal problems.

Now _that_ was what he called a consoling prospect.

...

_Ugh_.

Asriel swallowed anxiously and noticeably, his throat dry and arid from the lack of a refreshing glass of water. His legs were already asleep and it wasn’t going to be long until the rest of his limbs were to be resigned to the same fate; the bags under his glassy, emerald eyes felt more prominent as he absently scratched at them, growling out a drawn-out yawn.

_Might as well move now, don’t want dad to find me curled up in my own tears again._

He hated the fact that he had to add that ‘again’.

It took a moment or two for him to get up without his legs buckling and falling right back onto his tail (no thanks to a certain phenomenon labelled pins and needles) and even longer until he had manoeuvred back to his room. His groggy, fuddled mind may or may not had accidentally taken him straight into the kitchen, stumbling and tumbling over a few cooking utensils while he tried to make sense of what a metre long wok was doing in his ‘bedroom’. It was more-than-lucky that none of the cooks or scullions were there to witness their Crown Prince in nothing but loose, casual clothing as he mumbled to himself about the ability to control time and being a SOULless flower.

_Would anyone even believe me if I told them?_

He did _not_ want to know the answer to that question.

Asriel clumsily fumbled through his coast redwood wardrobe, his night vision coming in handy with how pitch dark the entire place was. In hindsight he realised he probably should have turned on the lights, especially with the amount of times he had to search through his things to find missing homework, acceptable clothing, or his reading glasses that _totally_ weren’t on his head already.

Well, he wasn’t the type of monster to back down from a challenge!

(He definitely was)

After a minute or two of rummaging through an angsty teenager’s surfeit of comfortable hoodies, denim jeans and flannel shirts he found what he was looking for: his signature oversized sweater, now just a size or two larger with how tall he was getting. It wasn’t too often he wore it anymore, opting for his hoodies with fewer... eye-straining colours, and now that he was at the precipice of shedding his stripes(just two years, in fact!) and _practically_ an adult, he had ever only donned it during his ‘Royal’ work, where his mother would kindly remark on his ‘inappropriate choice of apparel’ and promptly escort him right back into his wardrobe until he put it on. He would always bite back a snarky riposte while she dressed him, not wanting to upset her in fear of all the of the distress and strain of her work suddenly crashing down on him like that rockslide from forever ago.

And he knew better than to be the subject of his mother’s infrequent outbursts. Numerous unconnected experiences between himself and Chara had taught him that she _did_ a breaking point, but it was a slow, torturous boil, as she would usually keep her anger and frustration to herself until it just came... erupting out, hurting _both_ herself and the people around her.

There was more than one occasion where she had subconsciously summoned her fire magic, one example he could _very_ easily recall was the time she was furiously scolding him for repeatedly(and maybe a bit deliberately) getting himself wet and grimy by playing in the water puddles in Waterfall.

Good times. 

He looked down at the knitted fabric in his paws, his nostalgic smile fading as his clawed fingers traced around the yellow stripes. There was another reason why he disliked wearing it, one he would never admit to his parents, it just... forced all his worst memories to resurface. Instead of the sight of Chara gazing at him with soft ruby eyes and a mischievous smile, the crimson geraniums wound around the left side of their face reflecting off the nearby fireplace, he would see them on their deathbed, their mouth crooked in a pained grimace as their hands, legs and features twisted and spasmed until they took their final drawn out breath, their SOUL drifting up from their chest...

Stars, that plan sounded so flawed now. Why did he ever agreed to it? Was it just because-

_Nope nope nope- no more reminiscing, Asriel! Focus on the now, on your parents and on your people. You have a sacred duty as their prince to be strong, brave and **not** traumatised!_

... he never was the best at comforting.

He slipped on the sweater (maybe after a good 30 seconds of considering whether or not he should just burn it with his magic and get it over with) and was about to leave to head over to the other side of the Dreemurr castle when a thought occurred to him: When was the last time he checked his SOUL?

His appointment with Dr. Gaster was due in about a week, and he had been strictly told the first time he went to the Royal Scientist’s lab that he needed to examine it himself every now and again to make sure it was in peak condition, and if he needed to schedule it any earlier. Asriel was never a forgetful type, but he tended to let things slither past him when he was... preoccupied by his own demons, so to speak.

His SOUL was unconventional at best, downright anomalous and bizarre at worst. Being a boss monster already meant that his was stronger than most monsters’ out there, powerful enough to even compete against those who had higher levels of LOVE. The unusual amount of Determination in a boss monster’s SOUL was the main reason why his subspecies was advocated to be the rulers of the monster kingdom, but it also made them highly vulnerable to malevolent humans who had less than savoury Intentions. There were records from long ago of other types of monsters like him existing before the Great Massacre, anthropomorphic wolves, bears and cats who all had lingering SOULs and a variety of elemental magic. But along with most of the ancient monster populace they too were culled by the mages of old, intentionally leaving only the Dreemurr line to remain as leaders for the now-sealed kingdom.  


  
He could sympathise with Chara’s hate for their own race just _a little.  
_  


With a quick tug of a balled up paw the fiery threads of his magic responded and quivered, his inverted heart-shaped SOUL hauling out of his chest with little resistance as his surroundings and himself lit up in a dazzling array of white and red. He delicately cupped his claws around the culmination of his being, its glow dimming in amounts as it gently floated above his hands.

It looked... as normal as it _could_ be, if a monster SOUL with a smaller upturned red heart in the centre could be considered normal. He had certainly seen it in worse conditions before, with scads of little cracks running up from both of its crests, looking as if it could threaten to shatter at any moment. At least now it was one, unscathed whole, and _not_ screaming at the highest, most ear-rupturing frequency it could manage, begging and pleading for him to do anything to stop the burgeoning fissures.   
  


He strained his senses, his eyes narrowing into a focused frown as he concentrated on his Resonance, the signature peals and chimes associated with his being gradually ringing louder as they greeted back in kind.   
  
  


What was once a flickering ember was now an impressive fire, his will the only thing preventing it from blazing wildly and uncontrollably, burning and scorching anything in his path. It was no longer just a uniting flame in the living room, but a restrained inferno that awed all that could see, the marksmanship of a true sovereign.   
  


But there was something _else_ lying underneath it all, a calmer, tranquil jangle that was barely detectable among his own tolls. It sounded almost... metallic, like a clapper being banged against a steel bell, generating a reverberation that sung in echos and whispers. It was a poignant, somber melody, like it belonged to someone who was only hanging by a thin strand, on the fringe of giving up on living. He had a couple of thought-out theories on what it meant and where it had come from, but to confirm his suspicions he’d actually have to _ask_ Gaster on how exactly he made his SOUL, and he knew the skeleton was a man who would not tell or reveal anything unless it was on his own terms, so the possibility of him actually receiving a full-filling solution was basically... negligible.  
  


~~If what he speculated turned out to be the truth then it was most likely for the best that he was to be left in the dark, preferably for forever if his life counted on it.~~  
  


After a quick fluid motion of his index claw his SOUL was safely sent back into his body, the empty, numb sensation that always occupied a checkup disappearing along with it. He was _fine,_ completely healthy and unharmed!It may not be an orthodox SOUL by any means but that only cemented the idea that his was just higher maintenance than the standard, nothing the prince of monsters couldn’t handle! Besides, he couldn’t be the only kid in the entire Underground who needed some medicine here and there to keep themself sturdy and resilient, right?   
  


With a nod to no one in particular he looked to his clock, which on its fluttering, digital screen revealed the fateful, fortunate time of...

_6:10???  
  
_

Had he seriously been daydreaming for nearly an hour? Did he somehow _forget_ that he needed a restful, actually adequate sleep if he were to function like a proper Royal for the rest of the day?

He guessed he’d just have to take a couple of power naps today. 

  
Asriel grumpily ambled out of his room, his mood dampened by the lack of rest as he set a slow pace towards the Meeting Room. No doubt his parents were already wide awake and getting ready for the meeting today, if the noises of the servants shuffling about in groups through the hallways was anything to go by. They always preferred to have them at the brink of dawn, where they could spend the rest of the day addressing and setting their plans in motion. The prince, however, had a very differing opinion, especially now that he was running on nothing but his drive to please the two monarchs and not much else.

Why couldn’t he just flee from his responsibilities and go back to his soft, comfortable bed that was just singing to him like a church choir right now?   
  
  


Because then his mother would search the entire castle for him as if she were on a capture mission, forcefully drag him out of said bed with the force of a thousand tiger mums(or goat mums in this case) and then proceed to rip him a new one so large that he’d feel it stinging for weeks.

_Yeah, NOT interested._

_  
  
(_But in the haze of teenage defiance and pumped up hormones he had nearly disregarded all consequences and considered it. But he wasn’t _that_ big of an idiot.)  
  


The maids were up and about as they dusted, mopped and scrubbed the castle floors, sending Asriel friendly smiles and polite bows as he walked by. They always made quick work of the corridors, their skill in their magic suiting perfectly for the job. They were all kind, warm-hearted monsters, ones that Asriel and his parents knew all by name. The king really had no problem with doing the cleaning himself, as he had done it plenty of times before with little assistance, but once he heard that there was a shortage of jobs in the Capital and the unemployment rate was increasing rapidly, he just had to open a few positions in his home to make sure no monster went homeless.   
  


After a few more respectful waves and grins it wasn’t too long until he was standing before the large door leading to the Conference Room. It was a quaint space, big enough for twenty monsters with a low-hanging ceiling and a huge table fit for royalty (heh) that had sizeable chairs neatly arranged around it. At times there would be snacks placed just as neatly in the centre of the table, which would always be briskly eaten before the meeting even started. It was all a result of his father trying his best to make conferences as pleasant and laid back as possible, knowing how intimidating he could be when monsters meet him for the first time.

But now it was oddly... tense, if he had to describe it. When he sheepishly and apologetically walked in he was greeted by the presence of his parents along with the two heads of the Royal Guard, their expressions all neutral but anxious. The stern leer of his mother was met with the same gaze from the soldiers as her folded hands fidgeted on her lap. His father in turn was looking like he wanted to be anywhere but sitting on the chair opposite to the queen, his squirming form ready to bolt and make golden flower tea as he watched the tension soar through the roof.

None of them took heed of Asriel entering.

”You know what I am suggesting, Captain,” Toriel started after a minute of taut silence, her glare seemingly increasing. “As we have all agreed, months ago may I add, to treat the next fallen humans with the courtesy they deserve I do not see any rationale to have your force as expansive as it now.“  
  


Gerson’s brows scrunched in thought, his expression unreadable as he scratched at his greying beard, his hammer glinting menacingly by his scaly foot. The ageing turtle glanced at the fire elemental seated beside him, whose nonchalant visage also showed nothing of what he was feeling, the flames on his head cackling and licking against the inner draught. 

“I see where you’re gettin’ at, my Queen,” Gerson’s senile voice replied, now croaky and adenoidal from his centuries of living. “But you can’t expect e’vry human who tumble down ‘ere to be a saint, and besides, the citizens feel safer when the guard’s out there patrollin’ and greetin’ folks like old pals. Who am I to deny ‘em a peace of mind?”

“But it would do the exact opposite for the ‘tumbling humans’ _, Gerson,”_ The queensaid, failing to hide the hostility in her maternal voice. “They may very well act out in self-defence if the first thing they see when they exit the Ruins is a sword wielding, two metre tall dog monster running towards them on all-fours. And we all know that a human is strong enough to dust a monster even if their Intent is not entirely malicious.”

This time it was Grillby who spoke, crossing his arms as his pensive grimace deepened. “What matters most is the welfare of our people, my Queen, and to ensure that we must be prepared for all possibilities, whether or not it will be a favourable one will be up to the Angel. And in addition, what will become of the monsters who will lose their main source of income? As you said, the Royal Guard is expansive, and if what you desire comes to fruition that will mean a good two hundred or so people who will be laid off from their jobs all at once. What will be our next course of action once we terminated more than half of our military?”

  
“We are planning on expanding Snowdin, are we not?” Toriel flung back curtly, the fur on her arms bristling as her magic permeated and ionised the air around the four looming figures, reacting to her rising irritation. “Many opportunities for _all_ our unemployed will spring up then, our history has always showed us time and time again that our race are an adaptable, flexible people, so I am _more_ than sure your sentries will have no problem shifting from swords to mallets.”

A pregnant stillness followed, both sides of the argument shifting uncomfortably at they took in and dissected each other’s words. Asriel had never been more uneasy and out of place in his life, writhing nervously on his seat as he felt like he had just eavesdropped onto a conversation not meant for his ears. Toriel’s mahogany eyes widened slightly when she finally caught sight of her son, a forced, strained smile gracing her wrinkled face before dropping immediately at the sight of Asgore opening his mouth to speak.  
  


“I will have to agree with the captain and lieutenant on this matter, Toriel,” The king’s hesitant, cautious tone sounded strange in his guttural voice, as if he was already mentally bracing himself for the fight of his life. “It can never be guaranteed that the next human will be a merciful one, and who is to say they would _want_ to stay Underground? Both outcomes will only result in the human killing at least one of us. We can not afford another loss by the hands of-“

”You _do not_ have the right to have any say in this, Dreemurr!” The queen’s yell was authoritative and booming, her abrupt roar bouncing off the walls and into the hallways outside as she barely restrained herself from compressing the table with her crushing grip. “ _Of course_ you would want them to uphold their military, allowing them to do all the arduous work while you loiter by the castle like the _coward_ you are. You will wait and _wait_ until the captain heaves them by the arm helpless and afraid before you smite them with your dreaded trident! I can still recall _every_ single one of their names and the looks of their faces when they exited my home, apprehensive but hopeful. Their wails _haunt_ me every single night, Asgore! Every. Single. Night. Did _you_ ever take the time to sit with them and learn of their names? To have a conversation like sane people would do? To listen to _why_ they had all fallen into the Underground? Or did you-“

”THAT IS _ENOUGH_ , MOTHER!”

Asriel was shaking in repressed fury, running on nothing but raging adrenaline (the magical equivalent of it, anyway) and toppling anger as he stood up and bared his teeth at the female monarch, whose own expression was aghast and wide eyed, her claws flying to her mouth, _too_ reminiscent of a distant memory he thought he had suppressed years ago. The other monsters wore similar features, his father’s jaw slack while the two high ranking guards sat rigid still, their gloved hands subconsciously reaching for their respective weapons.

  
“If dad doesn’t have the right then _you_ don’t either!” He wanted _so_ desperately to stop, to take back what he said and curl up under the covers in humiliation and shame. But he needed to keep going, _needed_ his mother to hear this after two years of nonstop catcalling, and if not for himself then for his father. So he held his head high, his posture straight and regal as he stood up to her for the first time of his bitter life.   
  


“You do not deserve to have the moral high ground with how _you_ behaved when dad first declared war on humanity!” He carried on as he slowly sat back down, his eyes as ferocious as the boss monster before him. “Instead of being there when he needed you most you ran off in a hissy fit and left him to rule the kingdom by himself, especially when you _knew_ that he couldn’t! You could have stopped him from killing the humans _directly_ but you just stayed cooped up in your little cottage back in the Ruins, letting each of them go with only a pointless word of warning to go by! If you had stayed by his side all this time there _wouldn’t_ be a high unemployment rate, there _wouldn’t_ be such a low number of educated monsters and there _wouldn’t_ be as many deaths from loosing Hope and falling down! You say he is a coward and you say that he’s a poor, miserable creature, then if that is the case, what does that make **_you_**?”  
  


The young prince had not realised _exactly_ what he said until it had already left his loquacious snout, his previously confident stance instantly shrivelling up into nothing but horror and trepidation. There was a collective gasp from the elders in the room, their already shocked countenances somehow broadening even further at his outcry.

The queen was _trembling_ , her claws clenched into fists so tight it made her stark white fur even paler. Asriel’s full focus was only on his _quite literally_ fuming mother and the absolute murderous sneer on her face, his form shrinking and contracting until he felt he could meld and become one with the floorboard. Toriel suddenly rose to her full height, uncaring of the chair that had been pushed back so intensely and vehemently it had fallen onto the floor with a loud creak. Her eyes flashed dangerously, her grinding fangs opening to spit out-

For just a single second the world froze and Asriel saw everything around him come to a standstill. He could see his mother’s clacking magic flaring to life around the five of them, great red balls of wisps so hot there was a chance of the entire room catching on fire from just by being in the flames’ proximities. He could see his father’s expression, a wretched mix of pity, dejection and disappointment coating his entire person as his sharp claws scraped harshly on the table. He could see Gerson and Grillby readying their weapons, both prepared to detain either the queen or himself from getting physical. (Or magical, if that was the correct term.)

And it would’ve if it weren’t for the telltale _pull_ of time being reversed.

His surroundings and in extension the monsters in front of him all faded into vantablack, leaving him to aimlessly wander the null Void until he was sent smashing onto his bed, a sense of vitiligo washing over him as he dove right into the welcoming embrace of his pillows. (He was too distracted and panicked to notice the skeleton child who was there with him, their own thoughts jumbled and overwhelming as they tried to make sense of the fact that they were either dead or dying, a faraway amber star steadily drifting towards them.)  
  


He did not know when he started crying hysterically, only noticing when his drizzling tears started to wet and glisten the polyester textile that he clutched onto for dear life. He did not care about how and why a LOAD/RESET(?) happened, nor did he think of the implications of such a thing transpiring if it wasn’t by some means his doing, he was simply _happy_ and _content_ that he would not witness and be at the forefront of his mother’s seething wrath for at least one more day.  
  
  


And so he stayed there, a sniffling, choking-at-his-own-magic-snot mess of a boss monster even when a petite servant came by the door with a quiet knock and a chivalrous smile, briefly explaining somewhere along the lines on how ‘the meeting was to be adjourned as lieutenant Grillby had a personal emergency to tend to’.

He huffed petulantly and wearily into his soaked sheets when the monster had left shortly after, secretly pleased that he had no other annoying ‘duties’ that would force him to once more depart from his beloved mattress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens. ;)
> 
> I actually am really proud of this chapter!! I especially enjoyed writing Toriel here, mostly because she’s such a flawed but great character. I hate it when some people simply see her as a caring mother figure to Frisk or whoever she sets her eyes upon when the dynamic she has with Asgore and the other fallen humans are so much more interesting than that, and with a resurrected Asriel added into the mix it can really make her emotions and thoughts regarding her relationship to the king a lot more complicated. Now I’m really looking forward to having her more involved in the plot!
> 
> I know I said that there would be a Sans POV this chapter, but uh... the word count is already through the roof lol. It’ll either make the chapter too long or feel too rushed in comparison to Asriel’s part, so I just opted to off it entirely. But that won’t mean we won’t get to see why he collapsed at all, though!! It’ll just be a single conversation instead of 30 paragraphs hehe. 
> 
> I like to imagine that monsters are a bit religious due to the Prophecy, I just don’t know _exactly_ how much, but perhaps there would be some who are more theological than others? Like in real life?? And maybe they even pray every now and then?... ehhh it’s a cool idea, one I could possibly expand in the future.
> 
> So for the lack of a certain smiley skeleton in this chapter, have a sketch of chapter 5 where he’s decking out his jokes to Grillby!
> 
> *EDIT: Why is it always after uploading that you ever spot grammar mistakes-
> 
> ((comments always makes this blabbering mess happy


	10. Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster tries to keep a cool head.
> 
> Cherub is too curious for their own good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: hmm maybe I should shorten my chapters, I’ll start with this one!
> 
> Also me: *is at 3000 words and still hasn’t reached the actual content of the chapter*
> 
> Also also me: well fuck
> 
> *EDIT: holy crap this actually reached 400 views, man, I don’t even know what to say-

Gaster was beyond infuriated.

So infuriated, in fact, that those doddering lexicographers back in the Capital may very well need to invent a new word for the dictionary just to fully describe how infuriated he really was.

At first, he was ecstatic, he had managed to get into another ENCOUNTER with Cherub without them fleeing off! Sure, The child had been confused and overwhelmed, that much was clear, but they still managed to pull through with a CHECK and were about to use their magic again until...

Until Ginger apparently lost his marbles and killed them with no hesitation.

The scientist had pretended he didn’t notice the way Cherub stared at his assistant while he was conversing with him, looking as if they were peering at an entirely different monster; he wasn’t sure if they somehow had the same ability as his eldest to CHECK outside an ENCOUNTER (and if it _was_ then he’d most definitely would have to conduct a few tests later to make sure) or if it was something more... obscure.

Gaster had not thought much of it at the time, thinking that the child was just unsure of Ginger, he wouldn’t even be the slightest bit surprised if they were still wary of _him_ , after all, but with the way his assistant was behaving so strangely out of character he had to concede that their suspicions weren’t for naught and that there was a potentially dangerous monster lurking about the laboratory halls.

Now he had to make use of Cherub’s LOAD and locate Ginger before he could become... ‘manic’ a second time, but he was uncertain if he could form a concrete enough plan that would even allow him to detain his assistant swiftly and without injury. Hell, he didn’t know how far back the LOAD had sent him! It wasn’t like he was _expecting_ one of his most trusted employees to stab him in the back as if they were in some Shakespearean play his sons had found while playing in the Dump.(How could those two enjoy being around that putrid place so damn often?)

And he now also had to juggle in the fact that Grillby, his closest ~~and only~~ friend that he may or may not had been intentionally ignoring for work was going to see him at this _current moment in time_ with a possibly dusting Sans in his arms, the former who will most likely yell, rebuke, berate and whatever else the fire elemental could do to make certain he had drilled into his dense skull that he had ‘fucked up in the absolute worst way possible.’

He didn’t know which of the two he had to be more prepared for.

And so he gripped onto Cherub’s shoulder blades -maybe a little too tightly for the child’s liking- and gazed at them dead in the eye socket, his brow bones furrowed in rekindled Perseverance and Bravery. “ ** _Listen to me, Cherub, I know that this is a lot to take in but I will have to depend on you for this. As of right now you will trust me and me alone,_ no _one else, do you understand?”_**

Gaster silently waited for the child’s answer, who in turn was still shaking and recovering from their abrupt death. (The first of many, he’d guess) He could very nearly watch the skeleton’s rapidly shifting emotions play out on their porcelain-like face, fear, apprehension and anger all finding home on their features; it was odd how emotive a SOULless being could be, especially now that he could easily tell that they were having a inner battle with themself, contemplating whether or not they should still have faith in him; they eventually turned their head to look back at him, their eyelight faint but with a certain unwavering quality he could only label as Determination, and nodded steadily.

A ghost of a smile graced Gaster’s nonexistent lips, his hold on them lessening just a tad as he continued. “ ** _If anything goes wrong, and I mean_ anything _, you will have to do what you did just now. Focus your Intent and think about what you could have done to prevent Ginger from killing you, about what you would change if you were given a second chance, that no matter how many hardships you have and will go through, you will continue to sculpt the world to your desires. You have the capability of both Mercy and murder, of both creation and destruction, of both right and wrong._ That _is what Determination is_**.”

Never in his life did he anticipate that he would ever give a SOULless child an impromptu pep talk or for said child to be scrutinising him so intently, their eyelight searching his scarred face as if it held the answers to all their questions. But here he was, clutching onto them like a lifeline as they stood in a tense, nerve-wracking silence, both skeletons not quite willing to break it as they took in each other.

After what felt like an eternity Cherub slowly raised their hands up to his direct line of sight, an almost mischievous look appearing on their face as they started to sign. “ _I appreciate the sappy talk, Twigs, but we’re both going to end up getting murdered by your creepy buddy if we keep standing awkwardly in my room while you crush my shoulders into dust._ ”

Gaster felt his mind short circuit.

First off, _Twigs_? What type of insulting nickname was that? Were they _mocking_ his lanky bones? _Sneering_ at his tall height? If he had to be perfectly honest with himself he practically was the _definition_ of well proportioned among skeletons! Did he have to remind the child that they too, were a heap of twigs? even more so than him?

... he supposed it was better than some other monikers he’s heard before.

Second off, all ridicules aside, at least they were becoming fluent with their signing; ~~even if the way they phrased their words hit a little too close to home.~~

Instead of rewarding them with a witty reply of his own he just sighed exasperatedly, releasing them from his grasp as he started to make his way towards the bedroom door, Cherub trailing after him with an all too familiar look he had seen all too many times on another skeleton’s countenance.

“ _You don’t like the nickname, Twigs? That’s what I’ve been calling you since I came out of that tube thing. Decided that I should finally reveal to the world my naming prowess._ ”

“ ** _Incubation tube. Your... naming prowess?_** ”

“ _You dodged my question! And yes, wanna know what I call your friends too_?”

“ _ **Cherub, I don’t care what you decide call me or my assistants, we have thicker skin than that.**_ ”

“ _But you don’t have skin, so that must mean-_ “

“ _ **You**_ **know** _ **what I mean. I have lived too long of a life to let verbal jabs get to me, so call me or whoever else what you like, it matters not in the end.**_ ”

“ _But your tone is saying otherwise, Twigs, you could say... I’m getting under-_ “

“ ** _Stop. Just stop signing._** ”

He was beginning to regret this.   
  


* * *

You decided that you quite enjoyed signing.

Watching Twigs get increasingly crossed with you was legitimately pretty funny. His usual mysterious, dark facade that always permeated around him immediately disappeared once you started to purposely try to get a reaction out of him; he can act all cool and impenetrable as much as he wanted but now that you knew he didn’t like getting talked back, you wouldn’t mind being a bit more... intolerable to see what fun you could have with him. Yeah, you supposed it was a little rude, but hey! You only live once, right?

Well... not anymore, now that you apparently have the power to control time and do as you see fit.

You were still wrapping your head around it all. The ENCOUNTER that was so suddenly interrupted by a crazy Ginger (you really should have told Twigs about his weird chimes earlier, there was very likely a correlation between the two that he would have pinpointed), you dying and then coming back after who knows how long, Twigs’ comparatively... nonchalant reaction to said death and finally, his phone call.

_His phone call._

You were so distracted by your own inner turmoil that you almost forgot about it! He had a son! A family! He had people he cared about outside the lab!... okay, you did find it pretty weird that he spent so much time at work when he had at least two kids to look after, but since he also told you he had ‘lived too long of a life’ that could also mean that this enigmatic son of his wasn’t a child...

And he was coming here, dying and in all likelihood unconscious but still! There was gonna be a change of the norm, a new face from the crowd of five you have grown so used to. And you were admittedly a bit curious on what growing up under someone like Twig’s roof would be like, if his mannerisms around you were anything to go by.

~~But he doesn’t see you as his child, so why project?   
~~

  
_And_ you still haven't found the appropriate moment to ask Twigs on the topic of SOULs yet! Knowing the eluding skeleton you doubted asking him now was going to get you anywhere, as he’d most likely would try to sidetrack you by bringing up Ginger, who although _was_ something you should be worried about wasn’t exactly too high on your priority list when weighed up against your abnormality and reality bending powers. Were you just going to be left in the dark until it accidentally spat out of his mouth like most information you get from him?

Sources say yes.

The two of you were now passing by ‘The Flower Power Incident’, the unfortunate mug’s ceramic chunks and coffee contents all sprawled out like a crime scene. You only spared a glance at it until you nearly had bumped straight into Twig’s spiny back, who at some point had stopped walking and was standing fixedly still, his eye sockets squinting as he eyed the offending remains sceptically. 

You gave the shattered mug a more thorough once over, assuming that the older skeleton had noticed something you didn’t, but even then you saw nothing was out of the ordinary, just the same stains and the same wedges marring the walls that you wondered would ever be cleaned. (Was there anyone here who actually cared about health regulations?)... or was he seriously that sad and was grieving over it a second time?

...

You had to make sure. (You totally didn’t just want to see if you could aggravate him again.)

With a quick poke to his rib cage so he would be looking at your direction you began to sign once more, the movement of your phalanges gradually becoming more skilful each time. “ _You sure love that oversized cup of yours, Twigs. I wouldn’t mind figuring out how to rewind time far enough to before you decided to scare me and nearly smash my skull in with it_.”   
  
  


From the corner of your socket you could see the skeleton in question’s mouth twitch in irritation, settling into a thin line a moment after as he crossed his arms. “ ** _That is simply not how your power works, Cherub. Your most recent SAVE would have to be last night in order for that to happen and it evidently isn’t the case_.**” He flexed a few of his digits, his blue magic responding by manifesting around the disaster zone, lifting the shards and guiding it towards a very convenient dustpan. (Where did he get that that from? Last time you checked, there wasn’t a room where they kept cleaning supplies...)

“ _ **You**_ _ **will be brought back to your room each time you die unless you SAVE someplace else and override your previous FILE,”**_ Gaster went on, abstractedly watching his magic send the last few chips of ceramic into the dustpan. “ _ **The days before your first SAVE are irreversible, there’s no going back and fixing ‘that oversized cup of mine’, unfortunately.**_ ”  
  


Woah, okay... you didn’t know _that,_ seems like you nevertheless had to depend on that star from earlier in order to wield your Determination, but did that mean you could only spawn one at a time? Will the one back in your bedroom disappear and get replaced?... How and why did Twigs know so much of this in the first place? Now that you actually had the time to think and were apparently back in your usual slurry of being ignorant of everything you couldn’t help but be a bit more inquisitive of the scientist, just exactly _how much_ was he hiding from you?

You didn’t want to end up swamping him with your flood of inquiries, but...

You decide to stow that knowledge for later.  
  


“ _ **But that old gift**_ _ **was not the reason I stopped, however**_ ,” Gaster had tore his sockets back onto you, snapping you out of your intrusive thoughts before you could sink further; he had a brow quirked, his arms no longer crossed as he raised a hand, the dustpan floating and glowing beside him before vanishing in a flash of bright purple. (So _that_ was how he got that dustpan...) ” _ **Ginger is a punctual monster, even if your**_ _ **SAVE was hours ago he would have arrived for work and reported the mess by now... how bizarre**_. “  
_  
_

_Bizzare_ wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for a situation that had a very real possibility of either of you hitting the bucket, more fitting phrases like ‘I want to get the hell out of here before your assistant comes swinging a knife at me’ and ‘Maybe you should rethink your choices in staff, Twigs, or else we may end up with more than one murder crazy monster on our coccyxes’ were swimming around in your head and begging to be said, but the preoccupied look that the scientist was giving you was plainly indicating that he wasn’t currently hearing to any suggestions.

Great, the atmosphere was getting awkward again. But what were you _supposed_ to do? Just wait on stand-by while he put his genius mind to work? Twiddle your phalanges when there was the enormous chance that his thickset assistant was going down from that elevator metres away from you _right now_ with the rest of Twig’s crew in tow? 

If you had two rows of teeth they would be grinding painfully by now.   
  


You peeped up at the elevator, monitoring closely for any movement that would show that a group of four disturbing monsters getting anywhere near your level, only tensing further when there was _none_ at all. Did that mean you had to go up there yourself to see if the coast was clear? Should you leave Twigs by himself...? You have seen firsthand of what he could do, but you didn’t _actually_ know how strong the old bag of bones was, it wasn’t like you had much to compare off of, so there was always that teensy tiny feasibility that he was the weakest out of all of them...

You presently took a deep, long breath through your boney nose, emboldening yourself for what could be a slaughterhouse for the next undermined amount of time. At least you will be getting _very_ familiar with your magic, you pondered optimistically, maybe that will be the one good thing that will come out of this.

With one last peek at Twigs (who was still solving life’s greatest stumpers, apparently) you fully braced yourself for the inevitable deaths to come, taking long, resolute steps towards the elevator doors, your index phalange nearly touching the button that lead to the upper floors...

Until you stopped immediately at the echoes of metal being banged against. 

  
  


_Yepokaynevermindyou’rehidingawayinyourroomforever-  
  
_

* * *

Gaster was snapped out of his stupor when he heard the signature firm knocks coming from the uppermost floor of the lab, signifying that a certain lieutenant had decided to make his presence known at the worst possible time known to monsterkind.   
  


He had to physically refrain himself from tugging at his own eye sockets.

Not only did an timeline anomaly occur with Ginger being late for once is his life, an occurrence that should never happen because of the rarity of the act itself and the unstated rule that _nothing_ ever changes in a LOAD unless forced upon ~~by that shit-eating flower~~ , there was also the looming coccyx-beating that was to come by an enraged fire elemental. Great. Stupendous. Fan-fucking-tastic.

How in stars above was he going to protect both Cherub and himself from a rampaging assistant while also having a ‘pleasant’ and ‘meaningful’ conversation that was now undeniably going to happen? It was a recipe for catastrophe, a formula that would send them both into a time loop for Angel knows how long! He couldn’t only depend on the child’s SAVE to get them through this growing mound of imbecilic entropy, and nor was he anywhere in the right mind for any polite yak of any kind, but he had to- 

_What the hell is tugging at my leg?_

He swerved his head downwards and nearly sputtered at the sight of Cherub wrapping both their arms and legs around his femur and tibula like a baby koala, their sharp eyelight zeroing in onto the elevator as their bones softly rattled.

” ** _Cherub, get the hell off of me_ ,**” Gaster commanded, lifting his leg only for the child’s grip on him to tighten even further, squeezing their socket shut as if it would do anything. “ _ **If you don’t let go of me this instance I swear to the Angel I will-**_ “

More knocking, this time quicker, harder and occupied by distant yelling.

Grillby was getting impatient.   
  
  


The scientist gritted his teeth, his phalanges securely clasping onto Cherub’s sides, his hands large enough to nearly envelop their entire chest as he forcefully pried them off like a persistent bandage, resulting in the child’s bones clacking louder as they were raised several feet into the air.   
  
  
“ ** _If you don’t want to meet death a second time I_ highly _advise you to stop that pestiferous_ _clattering!_** ” Gaster could feel the ionisation of his magic prickling at his bones, his blasters threatening to be summoned; he heard Cherub suck in a shaky breath, constraining their shivering bones to keep still and hushed. 

  
“ _ **It only** **was...**_ ” He paused for a second, his mind scrabbling for the correct terminology as he carefully plopped the child back onto the floor, his conjured hands straightening them by the scapula to ensure their stable footing. “ _ **...** **the**_ _**one who called me earlier. Arriving at the most opportune moment, no less.**_ ”  
  


Gaster speedily scanned the (now _mostly_ calm) child again as he tried to control his own elevated breathing, placating the last few flickers of of his magic. His frown deepened once he realised he couldn’t just go up and greet the lieutenant with a trembling skeleton child by his feet _,_ that would open a whole can of complex worms that he was no way interested in actually opening. His personal and professional life was always to be separate, a dictum he had chanted to himself over and over since his first job as an intern.

” ** _Stay here_ ,**” His timbre was adamant and dogged, his frantic gait already taking him to the elevator. He did not bother looking back when he heard another set of nimble footsteps following close behind, having already decided that he could explain _after_ he dealt with everything that happened to go wrong today. “ _ **Be**_ _ **quiet and obedient. I won’t be long**_.”  
  


The doors were already closing when he caught another glimpse of the child, their face contorting between confusion and frustration as they watched the older skeleton be swept away by machinery they couldn’t quite understand. It was only when the scientist was completely out of view did their expression eventually settle on the latter, their form grumpily slumping against the laboratory walls, barely suppressing their rapidly increasing urge to claw out the elevator’s wiring.   
  
  


...

_I need a drink._

For what felt the the nth time that day Gaster once again sighed, his phalanges fidgeting anxiously at his turtleneck as he listened to the faint whirring of the elevator, his eyelights’ attention only on the screen in front of him stating his escalating altitude. He knew he should be spending these short few seconds thinking about what he should say to Grillby, what he _could_ say that would in any shape or form justify what he had been doing for the past few years. But even with all his intelligence, even with all his decades worth of scientific achievements and merits he came out blank, his archives worth of thoughts failing to form even a single coherent sentence.  
  


_Maybe ten drinks._

His body was on autopilot as he shuffled out of the elevator, his shoes begrudgingly dragging him to the entrance of the lab, occasionally tripping over piles and clumps of old blueprints, reports and discarded papers. The ground floor was arguably the most disorderly level of the entire building and objectively the least used, having transformed into nothing but towers upon towers of science gone wrong. Not exactly the best first impression one could have of the Royal Scientist (there’s been _way_ worse), but when did that ever him stop him from being a spontaneous hoarder?

The answer was no. Even if he may deny it. 

  
With a click flick of a lever with one of his transparent hands the door was strenuously opened, revealing a very unamused fire elemental with a unconscious Sans in his arms, his glare only hardening when his fiery eyes locked onto the man of the hour, his burnished guardsman armour only heightening his glower as he strolled in.

Gaster audibly gulped.

Distinctly keeping his distance from his old friend another pair of disembodied hands were materialised, picking up his eldest bridal style as he essentially tiptoed to the escalator that led to the highest floor, choosing not to take heed on how a pair of blazing eyes were continuing to drill steaming holes into the back of his skull.   
  


Why did this feel so frighteningly similar to when his parents caught him sneaking out of their house to buy booze that one time?

He let out a wobbly breath once he no longer felt like he was being judged for all his sins, his son floating closely behind him before being placed gently onto the examination table just opposite a tousled bookshelf. If the ground floor was the storey put to the least use than this one was basically fictitious, worn down schematics for the CORE plastered all over the walls along with a secondhand beanbag at the corner of the room that had been left to collect dust(not the other type of dust, _thankfully_ ) for years, the only evidence of anyone occupying the room recently being a overfilled ashtray, trails of stale smoke still billowing in the underground breeze.

  
He put all his pairs of hands to quick work, pulling out a first-aid kid from underneath the table as he surveyed the young skeleton’s limp body. He had no injuries and no conspicuous telling of a struggle having happened on his way to his university, only the slightest stinging sensation on his pearly white bones that often came from his teleports...

_His teleports!_

_Magic overexertion?_ He mused as a pair of his ghost hands yanked out a roll of gauze that was reinforced and strengthened by green magic, courtesy of the Queen herself. (Toriel has had hundreds of years of experience with healing and treating the wounded, he would be foolish to _not_ ask for any medical help that he knew she could provide.) There was enough of it infused into the cotton cylinder that a few coils swathed onto any injury was nearly sufficient enough for an instant recovery, only falling short when employed on monsters who have already fallen down.   
  
  
Magic overexertion was commonplace among monster children, typically happening during the first few years of a child still learning to control their magic. They’d get into a mock ENCOUNTER with the kid from across the street, they’d fool around with their newly manifested bullet patterns and play infantile games such as Monsters and Humans, both giggling like bubbly fools the entire time. It‘s all in good fun until one of them ends up collapsing from inexpertly pushing their abilities too far, their HP suffering because of it.  
  


But Sans was _not_ an ordinary child, having always had remarkably deep pools of reserved magic even as a toddler. Gaster had seen firsthand how far he could push himself when he wasn’t loafing around, how he had watched him singlehandedly blip from the Capital all the way to the Ruins multiple times in quick succession, how he had experienced by the hands of his eldest what it felt like to have blue magic used on _him_ decades since his juvenile years, how devastating his blasters could be when accentuated with poisonous Karmic Retribution. So for him to pass out now, and so coincidentally after Cherub’s LOAD...

There was something amiss, alright.   
  


But it wasn't _unfixable_ , either.   
  


Gaster stripped Sans to his shorts and swaddled a few hoops around his ribcage, his pained expression almost instantaneously unwinding as he shifted his torso, subconsciously trying to get closer to the sweet warmth that was intrinsic to green magic. The scientist then hooked him up to a nearby monitor, its glitchy visuals revealing his sons’ deficient STATs, exceptionally low but _at the very least_ not at zero. (He mentally winced at them, reminded for not the first time in his life that it was ~~solely~~ partially _his fault_ his son ended up in this condition.)

A monster’s body was fundamentally an extension and personification of their SOULs, so healing any part of their figure whether it being their torso, arms or legs were always as good as drawing it out directly. (There was also the added convoluted layer of having to get the monster’s consent in order to see their SOUL, and Gaster wasn’t exactly too keen on committing a major act of transgression when he was already having such a shitty day.)

_Grillby always_ _had a fine way of being melodramatic in the most galling manner imaginable... all the kid needed was a bigger dose._

  
With a final check of his son’s stabilising STATS he went back down on the escalator, mentally, spiritually and physically preparing himself for the ‘heart-to-heart’ to come.   
  


He was not even halfway down when he felt the surrounding temperature rise a few smouldering degrees, forcing out a few dribbles of magical precipitation to form on his crown as he felt Grillby’s fuming Intent rap through his SOUL; perhaps he should say something before the lieutenant could start his rant on his poor demeanour-

“This has gone for far too long, Wingdings.”

Too late.

Gaster held in a huff as he walked for the rest of the way, not wanting their ‘meeting’ to drag any further, his eyelights reluctantly meeting his friend’s yellow ones. The elemental was staring down at him with a scowl that could rival Her Majesty’s, his gloved hands resting on his sword’s scabbard as his ironclad shoulders leaned against the wall, looking akin to a soldier ready for battle.   
  


The scientist had only ever felt scrawny compared to him.

“ _I’ve reached a breakthrough recently, Grillby, I had to-_ _“_  
  


_“_ Fuku noticed him lying motionless outside her diner, still wearing the same unwashed clothes I saw him in when _I_ picked him up last night; she called me just as I was about to head into the Dreemurr Castle. _Where_ were you?” The lieutenant had a brow raised, knowing full well what the answer was but still insisting for the skeleton to say it (or in this case, sign it) out loud.

  
” _You know Sans can take care of himself, I taught him-“_

 _  
“_ Taught him, or forced him to? _”_  
  


_”Are you going to let me finish or are you going to keep fucking interrupting me?”_ Gaster hissed out, his signing increasingly hurried and agitated to the point of near incomprehension. “ _I know I've been neglecting my sons and I know I could be doing better. But once I get us all out of this damned hellhole I can ensure you I will do just that. I just need a few more years and the Barrier will be broken.”_  
  


Grillby frowned at this, his anger mostly dissipated but still faintly palpable by the decreasing heat around them. “That’s a heavy promise, Wingdings, especially now that the last two humans will be allowed to live their full lifetimes here. That will be at least two hundred more years until the last SOUL is obtained,” he writhed uncomfortably, his face conflicted and troubled. “For you to say only a couple... I can’t help but be incredulous. You’re not endangering yourself, are you?”

His burning eyes fell onto Gaster’s two hands (the pair that was actually attached to the rest of his body) where two large holes, one much more recent than the other, were punched into his boney palms. Gaster’s sockets widened as he yanked his arms away from Grillby’s probing gaze, having long forgotten that no one outside his work knew of his latest... disablement. 

“ _I do what I must for our freedom, the pain I felt is trivial in comparison._ ”

“Yes, and do you know what will happen if you accidentally dust yourself one of these days?” The fire elemental retorted, no longer reclining on the wall as he took leaden steps towards the scientist. “Not only will you leave your sons to fully fend for themselves you will also snuff out the last few glimmers of Hope the Underground has left! How many monsters will consequently fall down if they hear of your passing? Dozens? Hundreds? _Thousands_? You’re not as quick-footed as you were _two years_ ago, I don’t need a CHECK to see that your health is deteriorating!”

” _My followers will take my place. Sans will take my place.”_

“He’s going to university at ten years old, Wingdings, his intelligence rivals his own professors! That’s an unheard accomplishment in itself! How much more can you ask of the boy?”

“ _As much as is required of him-_ “

”Do you realise what you have just said?!” Grillby was now virtually up in his personal space, an accusing finger pointed at the growling skeleton’s sternum as his head flared searing white, his rage flinging back with vigour. “You’re _insane_ to be wholly expecting a child to bear all that responsibility! It will be the death of him as well as yours! Stars, if only I knew how far you’d fall when-“

” _Don’t you dare finish that fucking sentence._ ”

In the heat (pun fully intended) of the moment Gaster grabbed onto Grillby’s arm -a final warning that immediately ceased the soldier’s tirade- and scowled, his sockets now flashing wisps of concentrated magic. “ _You of all monsters should know why I put my life on the line every single day. I’m doing this for you, for my sons and every other forlorn SOUL that’s rotting underneath this fucking mountain. These decades worth of strife and toil has dragged me through the dirt until I had nothing left to give, depriving me of the few good things that has ever happened in my pitiful life_ _. My parents, my dignity, my...”_ His ghost hands hesitated, refusing to form the one word he couldn’t find in himself to utter for over four years, his cracked face faltering and downcast. _  
  
  
_

The mood around the two of them became deadly quiet as Gaster released Grillby’s arm from his iron grip, neither monster having nearly enough willpower to address the colossal elephant in the room that had been lingering over their heads like a tenacious ghoul, the temper of both of them sizzling out completely and leaving only a sense of longing and sorrow.

Gaster had never felt such a strong urge to port out of a room to hide away from his misery.  
  
  


The fire elemental dragged a hand across his face and grimaced, as if it physically pained him to be in the same room as the skeleton. He took a minute to regain his composure -deep, soothing breaths that allowed the room to return to its natural temperature- before focusing back to him, resignation and fatigue evident on his features.

”You’re wrong to say that you have nothing,” He started as he placed a comforting hand on the scientist’s shoulder. “You still have Sans and Papyrus, Wingdings, it is never too late to be the father they _deserve_.”

” _I will- I just need more time, Grillby. I’m so close to..._ ” Gaster stopped abruptly, his phalanges moving to his face where he touched _something_ hot and wet running down from his sockets.

His breath hitched.

When the fuck did he start crying?! (He was mostly embarrassed that it was in front of the only person he could consider his best friend.)

Grillby’s eyes widened measurably at the sight, knowing _exactly_ how the skeleton felt when it came to being vulnerable around other monsters and how detached and fragile he could become as a result. The only way for him to continue the conversation without Gaster simply teleporting away in mortification was to distract him with, well, more words.

”If you truly don’t have the time to fully take care of them-“

” _I can._ ”

”You _know_ you can’t; don’t let your pride speak for you,” The lieutenant hurled back, an almost paternal edge to his voice. “Have your sons ever stayed in Snowdin? Fuku and I -she’s thinking about opening a new branch there, you see- so we’re both going to stay at the Inn for a week or two to find a suitable building. Let me bring your sons, hey- don’t give me that look. It doesn’t need to be the whole fortnight, just enough for you to see that all of you can and _will_ benefit from this.”  
  


“ _They both have school, Grillby, how can they possibly-_ “

“There’s a holiday starting tomorrow, Wingdings, have you forgotten? Or does that word not exist in your vocabulary anymore?”

” _I-_ “

”Don’t even answer that,” Grillby managed out a chuckle- reserved and short-lived, but still there. “But _please_ , I really do think it will do your sons a world of good if you let them take a breather for once in their lives. I’m sure as hell know that you need one too, but I have learned to accept long ago that your boundless workaholism is just too powerful and that I will _never_ get you to relax,” Another chuckle, this time more genuine and jovial. “So perhaps you can, _vicariously_ , allow yourself to take a break?”  
  


Gaster could only gawk inanely at the fire elemental, his expression unreadable. He stood there emotionless and impassive long enough for Grillby to start feeling uneasy and concerned, his previous worry of the skeleton using his (frankly, unfair) magic to get away resurfacing tenfold.   
  


They continued to remain unmoving until a minute after (but to Grillby it might as well have been forever), Gaster’s eyelights sharpening as he finally put out his thought-out reply worthy of his three PhDs.

“ _I’ll consider it._ ”  


* * *

This was a terrible idea.

...

More like a terribly _awesome_ idea!

You have no idea what compelled you to disobey Twig’s direct orders, one moment you were sulking against the elevator door like you’ve already been doing for the past who-know-how-long and then before you knew it, you were being launched upwards by said elevator! Luckily the buttons were easy to figure out thanks to the demonstration the older skeleton had shown you when he had taken you to the armoury. (Even though you guessed it technically never happened...?)

How exhilarating! 

You excitedly peeked out the elevator once it had opened, revealing nothing but the ground floor of the lab, the bossman himself with his back turned to you and...

_Is that a fire elemental?!_

Wow, okay, those history books really don’t do those monsters justice. He was literally lighting up the entire laboratory with how bright he was glowing! And... increasing the temperature to scorching degrees, too. Oh stars, were you sweating? You were already starting to feel like you could have your second death from heatstroke if you stayed here for any longer- gotta move!

You curiously looked to your side as you stepped out of the elevator, carefully minding the two monsters that you just now registered were actually arguing. (what were they fighting about?) Your socket nearly bulged out of your skull when you noticed this weird... contraption(?) to your immediate right that seemingly led to a floor higher up.  
  


It looked like... a flight of metal stairs that could move on its own? Well, it looked _life-threatening_ , that’s for sure.

...

  
You don’t have time rewinding powers for nothing!  
  


You -as soundlessly and discreetly as you could- sneaked your way up to it, inconspicuously testing the waters by letting only one foot land on the mobile step... only for it to have your entire body be hauled along with it.

  
  
Oh no oh no _oh no- you were lying when you said you were ready for a second death!_

  
You didn’t even have enough time to panic and call for help before you were thrown carelessly onto the other side, your torso falling ungracefully and stumblingly onto the floor of the second level.   
  


You decidedly stayed there for a while, momentarily catching your breath as you practically hugged the sweet, sweet ground.   
  


That could’ve gone way worse.  
  


Like die and then die a third time when Twigs would undoubtedly furiously chastise you for catapulting your life away like it was nothing.

  
You eventually glanced up from your curling position, noticing an examination table that had a... _lot_ of cables attached to it. There was a beeping monitor close by as well, but the screen was obscured by... something that was laying on the table.

  
_What is that?_

You ploddingly crawled up to its pegs, your interest progressively getting more piqued as you gradually pulled yourself to your feet, your eyelight’s attention on the monitor now that you were able to examine all the details. It was displaying a catalog of numbers and letters- all, strangely, at an outstanding 1.   
  


The gears in your head swiftly started churning, your sockets narrowing questioningly in recognition. These were... STATs, precisely like the one Twigs illustrated to you downstairs when he was still showing you around.

A lump formed in your proverbial throat as you peered down at what _exactly_ was occupying the table.

Staring back at you were two rounded voids of endless vantablack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohohohoho >:] 
> 
> I think it’s pretty obvious that Gaster didn’t exactly have the best life.
> 
> I’ll keep his childhood pretty vague, the most you’ll most likely get from this story was that like him, his parents weren’t the best at parenting lol. (That’s partially why he’s neglectful in the first place. If he could do it, why can’t sans?)
> 
> I like to think Grillby is a family man who always puts his daughter above all else, so for him to see his oldest friend treating his sons so horribly especially after his wife fell down really, really irks him the wrong way. He had been hoping Gaster would be able to rectify his trashy behaviour himself but, well... the exact opposite happened.
> 
> He knows that Gaster loves his sons, hes _seen it_ for himself, after all, so it really frustrates him to no end to know how much of a workaholic he has truly become, how much he hurts himself and in extension Sans and Papyrus in order to forget all the shitty things that happened to him.
> 
> But he’s glad he at least has quit his drinking addiction.


	11. of Bone and Marrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans discovers the literal skeleton in Gaster’s closet.

His first cohesive thought was that he was _definitely_ dreaming.

Because why would a skeleton, one he doesn’t recognise, be standing right before him? He knew for a fact that the Gaster family was the last one of their subspecies, the rest having either perished in the War or dusted from losing Hope. He had already accepted long ago that he and Paps will be the last two skeletons to ever exist, their insignificant dust signifying another extinction by the hands of fate and misfortune.

But even then he still wanted to indulge in his creative imagination, if just for a little while.

The skeleton stranger looked younger than him, maybe around... five to six? They were at Pap’s height, maybe a little taller by a couple of centimetres. They also appeared... to be wearing a old sweater of his... okay, not the weirdest thing his mind had ever supplied, especially when compared to a talking buttercup with a ferocious grin and a murder streak. What was most uncanny to Sans, however, was that they were _deformed_. He may have only three other skeletons to compare with but he at least knew every one of them had two sockets and a mandible. But here this kid was, gaping at him with only one left eye socket and no lower jaw, their pensive expression inquisitive and cautious, as if they were analysing _him_. 

Sans felt himself squirm uncomfortably under their gaze.

He took a moment to glance away from them and instead at the two skeletons’ surroundings, his sockets narrowing suspiciously as he realised that they were... in his pops’ lab...? It looked worse for wear than the last time he’s seen it, the beanbag he had so often sank in years ago now dusty (he sure hoped it wasn’t the other type of dust, but he honestly wouldn’t be that surprised if it was) and the CORE blueprints pinned all over the walls now shrivelling and torn at the edges.

He could hear muffled shouting from downstairs, furious and blaring as heated air swept over his form, prickling at his bones and forcing his own magic to flare up briefly; it didn’t take a genius to figure out that it was Grillby’s voice, normally so quiet and reticent but now was no doubt upbraiding his father for whatever he got himself into this time, the fire elemental’s anger only mounting as he felt the temperature increase by a few torrid degrees. (One would assume that having no skin would allow skeletons to feel neither cold nor hot, but unfortunately he was a skeleton _monster_ , meaning he would have froze his shivering coccyx off in Snowdin Forest if he hadn’t worn his jacket during that unforeseen blizzard a couple months back... but that never stopped him from making puns about it, much to his father’s chagrin.)

He then looked down at himself, his grin immediately tensing when he saw the amount of electrodes, wires and cables attached to his shirtless ribcage, some even twisted underneath the bone and directly affixed to his pulsing SOUL. The leads were also tangling and mingling around several rolls of magic infused gauze, its stockpile of green magic gradually depleting as it healed his... uh... what did he need healing for?

oh... right.

He passed out from a shortcut, hadn’t he? He could recall waking up sometime in the early morning to the rustling of Paps jumping onto his bed to ask for breakfast, him making said breakfast before sending the little bubbly rascal to his kindergarten, him not quite willing to stomach pops’ ‘award-winning’ pasta and deciding to head to Fuku’s...

And then he stayed in the Void for too long.

He knew the two rules of his ‘ports by (his nonexistent) heart: Don’t linger and don’t think. Each time he entered he had to keep his mind blank and move as fast as possible, never ‘dilly-dally’ as his father had repeated again and again while in his youth. He never truly knew why he had to follow them, only ever knowing that the Void was a realm not meant for the living and if he ever stared into the abyss he would see and hear... things. Impossible things. The last few words of people on their death beds, shrieks of the damned and sinned, visions of the past, present and future. He had even hypothesised being able to see possible alternate versions of reality if he stayed long enough... as improbable as that sounded.

But something _strange_ happened during that particular shortcut.

The Void was... shuddering when he went in, if he had to put it to words. Reacting and bending to the will of something he couldn’t comprehend. It contorted and pulled at the seams of actuality, tearing at space-time itself and preventing him from making a fast escape; that was when his memory started to get a bit fuzzy. He could remember getting stuck to what felt like an inky, sticky surface and being unable to move no matter how hard he pulled, he could remember hearing and seeing things in his peripheral vision that he couldn’t make out, he could remember touching bone and fur and other textures he could never begin to describe, but what he couldn’t remember was exactly _how long_ he was stuck there for.

It could’ve been for only a second, a century, a millennia or even all of the aforementioned all at once, for the Void was beyond the concept of time itself, beyond what scientists labeled as quantum physics and beyond what laymen thought of as science fiction. It was of entropy and order, of certainty and uncertainty and of sentience and insentience. It was a place even the renowned Royal Scientist W.D. Gaster could only hope to understand and grasp, speculated by some to be the coveted solution to breaking the Barrier.  
  


And during that second-century-meillennia, even though he couldn’t quite recollect it, he somehow knew that the Void attacked his very SOUL with the vigour of a million serrated knives, all stabbing, skewering and goring at the culmination of his being as hollow, demented giggles of a giddy human child(how did he know it was human?) drummed into his ear holes, only serving to heighten and worsen the harrowing torment.

He really wondered how he didn’t instantaneously turn into ash with how marginally low his HP was.

The last thing he could remember after being essentially chewed and gnawed on by the Void was getting quite literally spit out and -in the least supple way known to all monsterkind- crash landing onto a curb just metres away from his favourite diner.

And then proceeding to promptly pass out on said curb next to said diner.

At least he got to his destination, even if he had to suffer tremendously for it.

He flinched hard in his restrictive seat when he felt something- no, _someone_ poke his ulna, the prods wary but curious and also very distinctly _boney_ , the delicate sounds of porcelain-on-porcelain mutely reverberating and breaking the awkward silence that was pervading in the air; he could barely hold in the instinctive impulse to seize hold of their SOUL and slam them into the nearest wall at the ~~very~~ slightly invasive touch, his already irked smile straining further once he came to the realisation that he wasn’t at all just having a surreal dream and that there _truly_ was a fifth skeleton he never knew the existence of currently ogling at him like _he_ was the one with all the malformations.

All he wanted that morning was a freshly cooked ‘burg.

Sans felt his breath catch in his proverbial throat as he once again let himself meet the quizzical eye socket of the apparently very real skeleton, quietly studying how their brow was perked in a perplexed but alert manner, their single eyelight as penetrating as his own. They swiftly recoiled their (oddly claw-like) phalanges from his arm as their expression shifted into a apologetic, albeit bemused grimace, taking a few wobbly steps back to give him -or most likely themself- some much needed space.

Huh. They must have noticed his unease.

That only further proved that he had to be cautious around them. If the kid was anywhere near as attentive as he was then he knew he had to be mindful of what he said to them, not until he did a decisive CHECK on their SOUL; he couldn’t let himself put his blind trust on anyone, no matter if it was someone of his own subspecies or someone who was a prince and a boss monster.

Though they didn’t look nearly as shocked as he was, looking like they were already starting to recover from their initial astonishment, their shoulder blades gingerly slouching and relaxing as they... slowly lifted their arms up? What... what are they-

“ _Are you Twigs’ son?_ ”

uhhhhhhhhhhhh

“n-no... I-I mean, yeaaahh?” Came his smartly drawled out reply.

It wasn’t often that he saw a monster speaking in sign, the only others he knew of being the two livid adults going at each other on the floor just beneath the two children, which in the midst of the huge bombshell that was the presence of another skeleton had gotten strangely quiet, the bellows from before now sullen murmurs. Was Grillby already done tearing his father a new one?

And who was Twigs? He had automatically assumed that they meant his pops, but what if it turned out there was a whole tribe of skeletons that were roaming around the Underground unbeknownst to the rest of the population? What if the child was one of them? What if this Twigs person was one of them?... how come he didn’t know of any of this until now? Was his pops-

“ _Wait... let me rephrase that. Are you Wingdings Gaster’s son?_ ”

Oh. Yes. The skeleton stranger who was _not_ a fabrication of his frazzled mind and, for some reason he still couldn’t make sense of, was wearing his faded purple sweater from his babybones years. He had to quickly think of an actual answer this time before they decided that he was some mumbling, uncivil cretin (when did his father’s vocabulary swoop onto his?) with the inability to form rational words.

“yep, he’s my pops all right. you sayin’ we don’t look alike?” His first intuition was to always joke around with a new pal, see what kind of sense of humour they had. If he wasn’t basically pinioned to the examination table he would have lifted his hand to shake theirs, a hand with a teleported whoopee cushion strapped to it, of course.

“ _Not really_ ,” The kid bewilderedly replied, their face scrunching in confusion at the weird question, their movements quick but still not quite as experienced as his pops... _peculiarly impressive_ for a child their age, though. “ _You talk weird._ ”

Sans’ bagged sockets widened in alarm, his amicable grin going slack. Were they... talking about his Font? He knew it wasn’t the finest one out there when there were worthier contenders like his brother’s, loud, cheerful and one of a kind, but he couldn’t help but be a _little_ affronted at the kid’s choice of words. (But he begrudgingly let it slide this time, six year olds say crap they don’t really mean all the time, anyway. He knew that by experience)

“eh, it’s innate, bud. can’t exactly be helped that i was born a bone-afide skeleton.” He pointedly waggled his bones brows, his grin returning full-force on his face. Time to see what type of integrity this kid had.

They almost seemed... baffled for a split second, titling their head to the side as they took in his words, their eyelight staring off into the great unknown. Sans could only watch in amusement as he took their temporary distraction to see if he could still listen in to Grillby’s voice, only to find that it now was so _eerily_ quiet he probably would be able to hear a pin drop, his worries only cementing further when he noticed the now mostly-humid temperature. _Oh no_. Did that mean they were reconciling? Was pops going to come back up to check up on him?

Would he _want_ him to be conversing with the kid? Was there a reason why they were kept secret from him for, seemingly, years?

Sans very nearly winced again when the younger skeleton abruptly started to full-on laugh, a noiseless, inaudible one that had their shoulders hunching as they gripped onto the table for support... were they _also_ mute? Jeez, this kid had it rough. There were a few subspecies of monsters who were born naturally mute, ones that communicated in alternative ways and preferred to live in the tranquil environment of the Ruins. But seeing an aphasic monster walking about who wasn’t a moldsmal was... eccentric, to say the least. It usually signified something permanently wrong with their SOUL, almost like their entire person was, for lack of a better term, a _mistake_.

Was that why they were here, in his father’s lab? Were they disowned by their parents and secretly taken in? And if so, how long had they been residing here? A week? A year? The whole half a decade and more they’ve been alive for? 

Were they truly born this way or was it...

No. No way his father would do such a thing. He wasn’t that immoral. Or nonsensical. Or reckless. Or just plain stupid.

Darn it, why was it always so hard to see the silver living when it came to the old man?

“ _You’re funnier than Twigs, I give you that_ ,” The kid signed once more, their posture now almost completely calm as their bright eyelight flitted all over the the room, spotting how disastrously unkeptthe entire place was. “ _Is your father like this at home as well?_ ”

Sans couldn’t help but blink at the genuine, unadulterated question that the kid had so innocently released out in into the world, their countenance telling him that they were legitimately curious, _no bones about it_. Of all the questions they could have asked about the Royal Scientist they decided to pick the one about his tidiness and cleaning tendencies...

Heh. He could work with this.

“nah, he’s a lot more neat back in the capital,” He started, his chesire grin stretching as it turned into something a _lot_ more devious and mischievous. The kid won’t know what hit them.  “he’s kinda shy about it though. I guess you could say he’s... a _closet organiser_.”

Processing, processing, _processing_...

Socket widened. A succinct look of irritation and ire. Shoulders hunching uncontrollably while doubling over in a undignified blend of snorts and snickers.  
  


ding, ding and _ding_.  
  


Sans’ characteristic beam must be sooo obvious on his face right now. 

“ _Okay, okay, you’re definitely funnier_ ,” Their phalanges struggled to keep still as they signed in-between fits of sniggers and simpers. “ _I don’t have any quips of my own, unfortunately. I guess that’s what you get from living with a bunch of withdrawn monsters_ _._ ”

... huh.

“You’re... livin’ here, in the lab?” He dragged purposefully, his expression growing thoughtful and just the slightest bit disbelieving as he distractedly struggled against the way-too-tight cables and wires. “how long hav’a been here for?”

“ _Almost... a week, I think?_ ” The skeleton reluctantly responded, fiddling with their hands in a way that seemed _almost_ suspicious. “ _I’m not sure, really. It’s hard to keep track when you’re stuck in a laboratory all day everyday._ ”

If Sans’ interest wasn’t already peaked it _certainly_ was now. What they said had tied in perfectly to when his pops started unceremoniously disappearing to his work again... so the kid _did_ have a correlation to all of his recent vanishes! All he needed to ask now was _how_ and _why_. If any of the increasingly distressing and worrisome list of theories popping up in his skull were by some means true, well...

He was not gonna let a second SOUL, no less another skeleton like himself, be subject to those experiments ever again.

Sans _knew_ he shouldn’t have believed in his father’s empty words, he should have known that he was just going to find some other lab rat, one that was plausibly left discarded like a ragged, tattered toy and thrown onto the streets, one that _literally_ couldn’t talk back to him and _make snarky, insolent comments ~~as the scientist waltzedtowards him with a seven gauge needle filled to the brim with a tacky, red substance-~~_

Both skeletons promptly froze at the sounds of leather heels on tiles, the resounding echoes getting steadily louder and more clamorous until they stopped just a minute later, leaving only the baited, unsteady breath of two cowering children.

Sans nervously gritted his teeth and looked to the jilted beanbag- an improvised, spontaneous plan starting to form and shape in his head. It was crude, not likely going to work and more likely going to get the poor kid severely punished but it was better than standing by and and letting them be found outside the True Lab. He’d just have to hope that his pops’ assistants hadn't already discovered their escape.

“hey- hey kid,“ He rasped out as discreetly as he could, his sharp eyelights trained onto the moving escalator.  “i need you to hide behind that conveniently large beanbag in the corner- yep, that’s the one- it should big enough to conceal you entirely if you crouch down. just be careful of making noise while you're in there.”

The child obediently obeyed, their bare feet tapping and clacking on the epoxy floor as their light footsteps glided them across the sooty workshop and behind the Sacco chair, their small form briskly engulfed by its enormity.

That’ll just have to do.

Not even as much as a single second had passed when he saw the looming figure of his father come sauntering in like he owned the place, (which he did, he‘d concede) his wrinkling sockets widening at the sight of son fully awake and what Sans could nearly describe as a relieved smile flashing on his face for the most abridged of moments.  
  


He had to put a jolly front, an oblivious, ignorant facade. They were supposed to be ‘getting closer together as a family’, after all; like hell he’s gonna go let himself or Paps do that after learning of this new revelation, and like hell he’s gonna let his pops lay a single phalange on that innocuous little kid.

Good thing he has had a lot of practice.

“hey pops.” He greeted with his usual lackadaisical, laidback grin, sending a little halfhearted wave in the scientist’s general direction. His father, thankfully, took the bait, using a few seconds to examine the now-useless gauze and the monitor beeping rhythmically beside him.

“ ** _How are you feeling, son?_** ”

That word really, _really_ rubbed him in the worst way possible. It sounded... unnatural and unsuitable in his pops’ voice, especially after he chose to throw away all righteous morality without a second thought and determined(heh) that jabbing and fondling his SOUL was the best idea he ever whipped up in his whole century of living, that treating him more like owned property was easier than handling loss the _conventional_ way.   
  


But he could, to the smallest extent, appreciate that he had _never_ done anything to harm Paps, so there must be a semblance of a good monster in there, right?

“‘m fine. how was your _hot_ date?” He knew his pops was going to interrogate him about his... injury sooner than later, but he seriously wasn’t too keen on having to go on an intricate explanation on how he may have experienced a rip in the very tissue of the Void when he had a kid to protect from the very man that was checking his STATs.

His pops, of course, noticed the hasty change of subject, a frown forming on his face as he started to slowly and gently tear off the electrodes adhered to Sans’ upper ribs. “ ** _Better than I could have hoped... however, there is something I must ask of you in regard to the lieutenant._** ”

Sans’ socket-opening conversation with Grillbz last night (or he _guessed_ that it was the night before, he could have been out of commission for much longer for all he knew) suddenly came to mind, the fire elemental’s final words before he left the Gaster estate repeating in his skull like a mantra and granting him just a few flitters of Hope. Did he... there was _no_ chance the walking torch actually managed to convince his pops to let him and Paps live with him, he was much too prideful to-

“ _ **He asked if you and your brother would like to join him and his daughter on their... temporary getaway to Snowdin. They’re leaving tomorrow for fourteen days.**_ ”

That was... better than what he was expecting.

“and you said...?”

” ** _I am asking for your opinion on the matter, Sans. Do you wish to take a break or not?_** ”

He never stayed in Snowdin for more than a few days at a time, some school project or whatever always hindering him from fully enjoying the blanket of snow that was so inseparable to the town’s charm. His mood would only further sink when his pops would follow him like a lost puppy, always stopping him before he could venture too far into the forest or wander into the outskirts of Waterfall.  
  


Not like he could actually escape, anyway. Even a city as massive as the Capital was no match for a capable monster with physics-defying teleportation powers. 

Sans would have most definitely taken up the offer in a SOULbeat if he were told this information an hour ago, _anything_ to get Paps safely distanced from his pops; but now he had to deliberate over the new kid’s wellbeing too. He couldn’t just meet them all willy nilly and then just leave them under the ‘care’ of his father and his team of misfits. Unlike a _certain_ someone he did have a moral compass that he lived by, and he doubted he would have a wink of sleep if he neglected them like the older skeleton did with him. But what should he do? Snowdin was on the other side of the Underground and he only _just_ got healed, what if the Void decided to munch him up like a favourite dog toy again? And his pops wouldn’t react too kindly to seeing him sneaking around or at worst knocked out in the True Lab, he’d be suspicious for sure...

He’ll figure it out, one way or another.   
  
  


“why not?” He lazily replied, watching his father yank out the last few wires coupled to his SOUL. He felt terribly vulnerable like this, all his pops needed to do was to squeeze a little and _poof_ , he’d be dust. One downside of being a skeleton was that your SOUL was never sheltered enough and anyone could just seize it if they knew where to look, which most did. It was terribly disturbing to know that his SOUL was practically out in the open no matter what he did, but eventually it became just _another_ complication to his already extensive catalogue.  “‘m sure paps would appreciate it, too.”

” _ **Yes... I suppose he would.**_ ” His father absentmindedly responded, his attention fully on the final cable as he glanced at the monitor every so often. The next few minutes were spent in an anxious, perturbed silence, the air between the two of them tense and apprehensive; Sans couldn’t help but wonder if his old man already knew the presence of the kid just by reading his expressions alone. If there was anyone in the entire Underground who could compete with his ability to read faces it would be the person who _taught_ him in the first place.

” _ **Do you have school today?**_ ”  
  


“Define today, pops. I don’t know how long I’ve been out for.”

” ** _You have only been comatose for two_** ** _hours at most. Do you wish to spend the rest of the day at home?_** ”  
  


Correction: Should he go home, convince Grillbz and his daughter to have their little holiday a day earlier and risk shortcutting back to see what he could find on the kid?

”sure. can’t say no when you’re givin’ me the opportunity to nap all day on a silver platter.”

” ** _... You’re intolerable, Sans._** ”

”i try.”

With all the wires now pulled out Sans was finally allowed to jump down from the table and move around, his first course of action being to shuffle up to the beanbag to sit on it (he could _really_ see how grimy it was now) and as conscientiously as he could, lean over to check on the kid.   
  


“you ok there, bud?”   
  


They nodded, a little cramped and sore from maintaining a squatting position for so long but otherwise fine.

“‘ll see if I can shortcut back here later. just creep back downstairs when he takes me to the Riverperson, alright?”

A slower nod, their expression shifting into a contemplative frown.  
  


Sans nodded back, his smile more relaxed and at ease now that he knew they’d be safe for the time being. He didn’t know whether he should fully trust the kid just yet, but _stars_ was it hard not to when they looked so meek and hapless huddled behind the beanbag, reminding him too much of what he went through when he was the same age.

”’ll get you out of here.”

And with that said he left them to walk up to his father, resuming his typical easy-going slouch as he put on his shirt and hoodie waiting by the (actually clean) study table, sliding his chilled hands into the warmth of his jacket’s pockets not long after. 

It was only when he was already on the Riverperson’s boat did he realise that they never even introduced themselves to each other.

Eh, he’ll just call them kid for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m getting a bit more comfortable writing Sans now, but puns still aren’t coming naturally to me just yet. I guess for now I’m just stuck with searching it up online-
> 
> This is where all the subplots start merging and story _actually_ starts happening, I think we’ve reached the halfway point for this Arc... unless I decide to add some fluff chapters-
> 
> We’ll see how it goes.


	12. Veritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster is one paranoid scientist.
> 
> Cherub learns the partial truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I _may_ have forgotten that Goner kid was well... supposed to be a kid lol.
> 
> So ummmm lets just say I aged him up by a couple of years and he’s a new intern for Gaster and the younger brother of MK’s father!
> 
> I’m also curious to see if anyone has any decent theories on what’s happening with Ginger. It isn’t some sort of zombie injection, I’ll tell ya that.
> 
> This is where the mystery tag comes from, I’m not particularly good at suspense (I’m hoping to improve that over the course of the next few chapters, though) but I hope I can throw in enough hints for people to have good guesses on what’s going on eventually!
> 
> Oh yes! Ginger is Follower 1, Mabel is Follower 3 (her design is based of striped bird in Deltarune) and Pars(he hasn’t shown up yet) is Follower 2, just in case anyone is confused-

Two crises averted in the span of of a couple of hours.

It was certainly not a frequent occurrence in Gaster’s life.

Unfortunately. (Or... fortunately? It depended on the way you see it.)

He couldn’t help but let a half-sly, half-relieved smirk creep onto his face as he watched his son sail towards the Capital, his along with the Riverperon’s silhouettes slowly slinking into the soundless river until they were both indistinguishable with the navy metamorphic rock, leaving the scientist with nothing but the scorching heat of Hotland spearing at his back and the jumbled sea of thoughts that were his inner musings. 

It didn’t go perfectly, of course. He had very nearly let (all) his emotions slip during his quarrel with Grillby, which he just _knew_ will be the primary subject of the fire elemental’s lighthearted jeers whenever they meet face-to-face again. And his conversation with Sans... well, he never did expect their splintered relationship would be so easily mended with a few words, an awkward exchange of tight smiles and an even more awkward pat on the shoulder blade.

~~He’ll just have to keep trying and trying, even if it’ll take the rest of his lifetime to make up for what he did.~~

But there still was the third potential calamitous predicament looming around the corner that he’d still had yet totackle, the one that had been at the back of his mind constantly like a tenacious itch that won’t go away and the one that was undoubtedly the most worrisome of the shitty happenings of today: Ginger.

He wasn’t even sure where to start. The last timeline anomaly that came about was two years ago, just a few days before he had forced the flower to RESET by manipulating his Determination with the extractor. But, for one reason or another, he strangely couldn’t recall what the anomaly exactly was, or what he did to rectify it. (If he did at all) Every time he’d try to remember a cloud of... haziness would wash over him, as if his mind had put a mental wall preventing him from accessing the memory, only ever resulting in giving himself a pounding headache if he tried to do so.

And what if the last anomaly was as alarming as this one? There may very well be another homicidal monster skulking somewhere in the Underground, walking among innocent, blissfully oblivious monsters who all simply want to see the Sun and stars within their lifetimes. But, now that the scientist thought about it, there hasn’t been any murder cases in recent years, or any _at all_ since the kingdom’s Sealing a thousand years ago. The crime rate of the Dreemurr Kingdom was practically nonexistent, so low that most of its citizens had never bothered with locking their houses or their establishments, some even offering their homes to the increasing number ofhomeless who no longer had their own roof to sleep under.

The worst offences he’s seen since moving to the Capital were petty thefts by delinquent, insurgent children which -due to communities being so tight-knit and word of mouth spreading so quickly- would be swiftly apprehended and the stolen goods returned to the distressed shop owner.

It was the perfect environment and the perfect people for a wayward monster’s killing spree.

... he’ll have to remind himself to give Gerson a call later.

“Doctor Gaster!”

The skeleton jerked his head in a panic, abruptly stopping in his footsteps as he narrowed his eye sockets towards the direction of the shout. In the distance he could see a figure capering towards him from the tunnel that connected the humid air of Waterfall with the sweltering warmth of Hotland.

And -for only a second- Gaster thought he caught a glimpse of Ginger, his shadowed shape slouching with the same malignant gleam in his grey eyes and his twisted smile stretched wide and turned malicious. But the moment the scientist had blinked the assistant’s drooping form was immediately replaced by the animated, vivacious one of his newest intern: Inermus.

“I’m sorry about being so late, Doctor!” The armless lizard sheepishly apologised, shyly averting his slit eyes away from Gaster’s own and alternatively looking down at the rippling magma below. “Someone was already using the Riverperson’s services so I kinda had to... uh... hitch a ride with that yellow duck back in Waterfall and run for the rest of the way...?”

The intern was heaving and out of breath, his gulps coming in greedy gasps as beads of sweat dribbled down his scaly face. He anxiously shifted his body away from the skeleton, his voice coming out as an embarrassed whisper the longer he talked. “I... also tripped over myself a couple of times while getting here so... y-yeah, that’s my poor excuse.”

Truthfully Gaster could give two shits about Inermus being unpunctual (he was always late at least once or twice a week, anyway), especially after what had already transpired in the past three or so hours. He would pick a scraggy, barely-out-of-stripes trainee over an assistant now-turned-killer any day of the the week. Or month. Or century.

But... should he be wary of him now, as well? Was there a possibility of Inermus suddenly doing a 180 just like Ginger did and kill him or Cherub where they stood? And what about Mabel and Pars? It wasn’t going to be much longer until they arrived for work and he wasn’t certain how or _if_ he could handle having his entire team all wanting to see his dust be splayed.

Gaster felt his socket twitch. Life just had to throw another curveball at him, didn’t it?

He was really, _really_ tempted to get a drink now.

“O-oh! Ginger’s sister told me to relay you a message!” The lizard exclaimed as his orange tail fussily swayed behind him, sweeping up rust coloured dirt into the air. “She said he wasn’t feeling too well so he has to take the day off to go to Capital Hospital; I could hear him wheezing and hacking in the background of the call and it did sound pretty bad... gosh, I hope he’ll be alright!”

Gaster, however, did not feel any reassurance from that little snippet of information, only proving to further heighten his speedily rising trepidation and concern for the rest of the monster populace. There was no other reason for Ginger to be unwell this time of year unless it was connected to the very mess that he was mulling over.

And _if_ he was ill, that meant what ever happened to him was because of his SOUL, and if it was his SOUL that turned him hostile and aggressive, then...

What in Angel’s name made him turn back on the literal Traits that made his being?

_Sending him to a building crowded with sick, defenceless monsters sounds like a great fucking idea._

“ _And why did he not just call me?_ ” The scientist replied, his animosity thankfully not conveyed through his signing. “ _I’m sure a matter as important as his health would need to be addressed to me directly._ ”

A skittish chuckle was Inermus’ reply, once again diverting his gaze to avoid direct eye(light) contact. “You never gave any of us your number, Doctor... you didn’t want to, remember?”

... _Ah_.   
  


Gaster failed to hide the light dusting on his zygomatic bones.   
  


* * *

Sans was... not what you were expecting.

If he hadn’t outright told you that he was Twigs’ kid you most likely wouldn’t have given a second thought to them being father and son, let alone related at all. Other than being the same subspecies they didn’t even resemble each other! Twigs was gigantic, lanky and aloof while Sans was stocky, big-boned and a lot more friendly! You probably shared more likeness to the scientist than _he_ did, even if you never have actually gotten a good look at yourself before.

And he seemed unquestionably adamant in getting you out of here.

But _why_? Twigs may be a bit... freaky, odd and probably has more than a few screws loose but he hasn’t (yet) done any harm to you! And his assistants, who all seem just as weird and distant as their eccentric boss, at least didn’t see you as nothing but an experiment.

... didn’t they?

You irritatedly huffed as you glanced around your room, your eyelight presently landing on the golden star still shining brilliantly ahead of you, its gleam dimmer but still bright enough to shade both you and your surroundings in a yellow and sangria sheen.

You had fled back to the True Lab the moment Sans left with Twigs to go to whoever this ‘Riverperson’ was, giving you a sufficient amount of time to safely manoeuvre the metal stairs that had nearly killed you with... relative ease, if jumping off halfway down and landing skull-first onto the ground floor counted as that. The armour cladded fire elemental you saw bickering with Twigs was nowhere to be seen, likely having left when Twigs came up to check on his son.

You still haven’t seen or heard Ginger since your death a timeline ago(?) and your ‘inventive’ imagination was starting to really run wild with the theories. Maybe he was already feeling better and was being tardy for no particular reason other than making you fear for your life _or_ , for the more... riveting option, he has already gone off the deep end and was now savagely slaughtering dozens of monsters outside the laboratory doors, just like he did with you.

...

Should you be concerned about Twigs being alone out there?

You didn’t know how long it would take him to escort Sans to Riverperson but he had mentioned before that there is a nearby river used for travelling between destinations in the Underground, so it really should have only taken at most a couple of minutes to get there and back... unless they were having some pleasant father-son bonding time.

Yeah, that’s... probably what’s happening.

Not that you cared much, anyway.

Didn’t Sans also say something about shortcutting (you could only assume that he meant teleportation, perhaps he and Twigs shared more in common in terms of their magical abilities?) back in here to help you out? How long were you going to wait for him until he showed up? An hour? The rest of the day? And what _exactly_ was his plan?

Twigs always kept a watchful eye socket on you (and when he was too busy to monitor you himself he’d get Inermus to do it instead) so it wasn’t like Sans could waltz in unnoticed. Even if he was successful in ‘porting you away Twigs would suspect him and easily track him down within a day or two, ending with both you and him getting into some serious trouble.

_Why_ was he putting his entire life at risk for someone he only knew for an hour? For something that could get him severely punished? You had done nothing to vindicate his... camaraderie and he nevertheless treated you like a ‘bud’, as he liked to say it, more than everyone else you knew in your short week of life. (though it was feeling a _lot_ more than that the longer the day went on.) But what was compelling him to act this way towards you? Was it pity? _Sympathy_? Was it because of the way you looked and your disabilities?

You couldn’t understand it.

And you definitely couldn’t understand _him_.   
  


...

You were going to give yourself a migraine at this rate.

You grudgingly slithered out of your bed, your unfolded duvet dragging along your malcontent slide until only a sliver remained clinging onto the mattress while the rest cushioned your slow descent. You let out a resigned sigh as your arms plopped to your sides, mundanely staring at the SAVE point (a name you decided was _way_ better than the previous one) still flickering in and out of existence. You, _once again_ , had no idea what you could do to cure your boredom.

There wasn’t much else to see upstairs other than a few blueprints and schematics you could only peep at before Sans coerced you to squat behind the very soft and grainy chair-thing for an hour,but you doubted you would be able to get a thorough look at them before Gaster would come barging in to kill you for snooping through his work.

Was it bad to presume he would kill you every time you disobeyed him?

Eh, you didn’t know enough of the tall skeleton to say that he _wouldn’t_ , but he was irrefutably radiating those vibes when you were toying with him with your signing earlier... even so that _could_ just be his sleep deprived mind speaking for him, making him grumpy, stingy and prone to get pissed off at the most minute of things.

Or he was just an old man with anger issues.

One thing you have observed about Twigs throughout your interactions with him was that he was exceptional at teaching but absolutely _horrible_ at conversing with people. He would he able to rigorously explain to you the most esoteric and arcane of topics but the moment the lesson ends he would be at a loss on what to say half of the time. You first thought it was only with you, since you couldn’t fully communicate with him until last night, after all, but _then_ you saw how he behaved with everyone else in his life. His friends, colleagues and even his own son weren’t exempt from his social ineptitude, if those lengthy pauses between Sans’ and his’ replies were anything to go by.

Stars, it was like he constantly _needed_ someone to keep him from spontaneously imploding into himself.

...!

There _was_ something you could do in the meantime! You remembered a room not too far away from your own that he never showed you but went in-and-out continuously, usually with a mug or two filled with scalding coffee in one of his pairs of hands. He had never explicitly _told_ you whether or not if it was off-limits and it never _sounded_ like anything dodgy or secretive had been happening inside...

So _that_ meant out of the options you were pondering over this one had the lowest chance of Twigs taking your life... only if he found out.

_Great deduction skills, Cherub_.

With a clear goal set in mind you gave one final apprehensive peek at the rippling SAVE point before ambling towards the door, a nagging sense of déjà vu accompanying you the entire way.

* * *

  
The entry to Twigs’ mysterious room was, rather amazingly, not locked.

It only took an experimental flip of a door lever for you to enter what revealed to be Twigs’ personal office. It was... what you expected a person like Twigs’ workroom to look like. Even without the lights on you could see the mess the scientist had accumulated over the years by him piling theses, journals and scientific papers on top of each other. He had his own personal (hopefully scrubbed) coffeemaker in the furthest corner of the room and a computer desk on the other, with rows upon rows of filling cabinets decking all four walls. The entire room was basically a huge vault packed with Twigs’ findings over the years as Royal Scientist, all displayed and accessible to your curious phalanges as long as the old man was dumb enough to leave the metal cupboards unattended.

But just before you could get to the bottommost one you saw a streak of red in your peripheral vision, perched and tucked sprucely on top of the chair set askew in front of the computer. It was... some sort of article or clothing?

You, as casually as one could when there was an underlying feeling of terror of a certain skeleton sneaking up on you, approached the piece of apparel. Now that you could closely inspect the garb you could more easily see that its ends were frayed and tattered, little holes of years worth of wear and tear loosening the fabric and threatening to break off entirely if too much tension was applied. But even then you could tell that it was well taken care of, not a single smudge of grime polluting the vibrant crimson.

You picked it up gently, letting your phalanges run through the woolly material. It was soft to the touch and the perfect stretch for swathing around your neck... was that what its purpose was? To support your neck vertebrae when-

_Uhhh....?_

Did... did you just perform a CHECK on an ITEM...? That was... apparently a thing you could do?? There was even that inner voice again! As much as you appreciated the tidbit of knowledge it gave you couldn’t help but feel slightly _distressed_ that you will have to listen to yourself reading the words aloud each time you wanted to know a bit more about... well, anything really.

... you’ll learn to live with it, you supposed.

You hastily put the scarf back down, straightening it into what it hopefully looked like before you so intelligently chose to grab it and made it as evident as the two cracks on Twigs’ face that someone went into his office uninvited, eventually returning to your previous position adjacent the cabinets once it looked... tolerable enough. You (thankfully) still hadn’t heard any noise from the hallways outside, but you knew your luck wasn’t going to last much longer if you continued to loiter about like you had all the time in the world. 

Which you... _technically_ did, but right now really wasn’t the time(heh) to complicate things further with the particulars of your time travelling capabilities.

You tore your attention back to the filing cabinet, settling on opening the dossier labeled in poorly scribbled wingdings as ‘Determination’... was that seriously the best title Twigs could think of? You swear for someone who was seemingly so layered and intricate he sure gave the impression that he got a real kick from being as vague and ambiguous as monsterly possible...

With a quick sift through the numerous files inside you spotted the two that intrigued you the most: the folders for both you and... whoever this ‘Flowey’ character was. You would be lying if you hadn’t wondered if there was anyone else that Twigs... ‘made’ and seeing the name now only made you ever the more curious on what other crazy projects the skeleton had subjected himself and his assistants to; perhaps you will be able to find the solution to your lack of a chime among these files... or maybe even uncover the reason to Sans’ insistence on your escape!

Besides, Twigs’ entire personality just _screamed_ inner manic and deranged scientist.

You opened up Flowey’s files, your eyelight illuminating the office as you skimmed from one page to the next at breakneck speed. Most of the binder seemed to be composed of hundreds of pages carelessly ripped off from a... personal journal of some sort. Nearly unintelligible wingdings were scrawled all over the sheets, all blabbering mindlessly about...

Wait, _what?_  
  


You knew from your textbooks that Twigs had been the one to bring Asriel back to life centuries following his death, but none of them had ever actually gone in detail on what he had done to resuscitate him, only mentioning the basic process of using traces of his dust and a bit of the essence of the harvested human SOULs to construct a new body for him, memories and all.  
  


You _guessed_ the books weren’t genuinely lying, just sidestepping a couple of terribly crucial elements such as ‘stabbing liquid Determination into a golden flower that unknowingly had the leftover remains of a long gone prince’, ‘said golden flower gaining sentience and the same powers you have’ and last but not least, ‘Twigs’ painful descent into lunacy and depression by what appears to be years of RESET shenanigans’.

~~Somewhere in the depths of your consciousness there sat a enraged child, their face a frenzied scowl~~ ~~as their anger and remorse only soared the more you read.~~

You felt a lump growing in your proverbial throat as you turned the pages with shaky hands, writhing uncomfortably as you watched Twigs’ writings get steadily more perturbing and brisk until you no longer could interpret the scientist’s handwriting. The beginning of the entries were comprehensive and precise, the first hundred of so pages distinctly stating each of his Flowey sightings and methodically systemising the different anomalies occurring as a result of the flower’s temporal tampering. But as the RESETs dragged on the entries started to take a turn of the worse, getting shorter each time he wrote a new one and the subject matter itself straying further and further from Flowey and instead prattling on and on about the safety of his sons and the fate of the kingdom.

If all this RESET tomfoolery gave Twigs nothing but suffering and a case of insanity then what the hell did he want from you?!   
  
  


Another thing you had discerned while reading was that Twigs kept jotting down a term called ‘Resonance’, something allegedly principal and unique to one’s SOUL and what Flowey lacked to be the ‘true monster he once was, forcing him to lose the ability to feel compassion and empathy towards himself and others’... was _this_ the solution to your toll problem? Did that mean that _you_ did not have one, as well? Was that why you always felt so... incomplete, for lack of a better term?  
  


Your disquieted frown deepened as you put down Flowey’s folder onto the computer desk and snatched up your own, your phalanges promptly opening the binder with a _snap_. The foremost thing you saw was how _old_ some of these files were, dating months before Twigs had brought Asriel back as a buttercup, that meant, without adding Asriel’s RESETs into the equation, almost three years ago! Was that how long Twigs had been trying to create you for? Or were you in that tube for much longer than you had previously-  
  


_Arghh stop asking questions and keep reading, dammit!  
  
_

You hurriedly turned to the next page; the papers of this folder weren’t from the torn pages of a glorified diary and were instead typed and printed from a computer, enabling you to read the compact wingdings without having to squint too hard and give yourself a headache attempting to decode the worst calligraphy in existence. 

  
With a quick scan you found a paragraph you deemed the most helpful, its text so large it might as well kept the entire page to itself. You took a deep soothing breath through your nasal bone as you began to-

“ _ **What the fuck are you doing in my office, Cherub?**_ ”

... welp, looks like its high time to have a tearful goodbye with your second life before you get blasted into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say for this one!
> 
> I’m not _too_ happy with this chapter but i guess it will suffice until I inevitably cringe while reading it in a couple of weeks and decide to rewrite half of it-


	13. Tangerine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster throws exposition at Cherub.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title was named after one of Glass Animals’ latest songs, Tangerine. ;)

Unbridled fear was an emotion you were beginning to associate with Twigs’ death stare.

You’ve seen morsels of it on his assistants’ faces, the same scarcely vailed terror that would flash on their features whenever Twigs fixed them with his sardonic glare. How they would cower beneath it and submissively nod, complying to whatever the scientist had demanded them, his grouchy, poignant demeanor only ever further exacerbating his already menacing aura.

So to see him stalking towards you with the same chilling glower when you were already assuming the worst was not boding well for your spiralling hysteria.

You were starting to back up towards the filing cabinet, raising your arms defensively while you tried to think of an excuse that wouldn’t send you immediately careening into the ceiling. Contrastingly Twigs had his fists clenched, his sockets fluttering between locks of purple magic and two dark pools as he cornered you.

“ _Look- Twigs, I can explain!_ ” You frantically signed, already pulling at straws on what you could say to placate the taller skeleton. What _could_ you say? That you were curious and in need of a distraction from Ginger? That you went searching for answers yourself? Speaking the truth was just going to get you one foot further into the grave!

“ ** _I gave you one simple instruction to stay where you were and you instead decided to intrude into my office. What else is there to explain?_** ” Twigs retorted, taking a second to morosely glance at the scarf still pleated on the nearby chair.

“ _You left the door unlocked and you never said I wasn’t allowed in here!_ ” You knew what you were signing would most likely irk Twigs more, but you had to at least _attempt_ to lift some of the blame off of yourself; you didn’t even want to know how he would react to you sneaking up to the ground floor and meeting Sans. “ _And... I needed to know more!_ ”

Twigs seemed to pause at that, his boney brows furrowing while his dim eyelights appraised you. His face was... unreadable, almost blank, like he was intentionally not allowing you to get a good read on him. His calculating frown deepened as he spotted your dropped dossier, some of its files having sprawled across the floor when you had nearly thrown them at him when he creeped up behind you.

“ ** _And what were you so desperate to learn about, exactly?_** ” Twigs loured back at you, gauging your every action like an apex predator hunting their prey. “ ** _Does it happen to be related to the way you were leering at my assistant before he killed you?_** ”

... he knew you were ogling at Ginger the entire time?!

“ _Partially_ ,” You resolutely responded, opting to ignore your flush of embarrassment and disconcertion from Twigs’ claim. Now wasn’t the time to be bashful, not when you finally had the chance to get the answers you’ve been so eagerly coveting. “ _Since the minute I came out of that tube I’ve been hearing these... songs coming from you and everybody else. They’re all concentrated in your chests and-_ “

“ ** _Listen to mine. Now._** ”

“ _But I don’t know what they all mean! What are-_ “

“ ** _Just fucking do it!_** ”

You flinched at the scientist’s outburst and pressed your back against the filing cabinets, your initial terror returning with a vengeance. Did he _have_ to yell at you like that?! One moment he’s nonchalant and then the next he looks like he’s about to viciously tear you from limb to limb with his fuming sockets alone! Stars, you were practically occupying as little space as your rigid, boney body could handle right now!

Way to make a skeleton traumatised for life, Twigs!!

You steeled yourself and narrowed your socket in concentration, straining your senses to listen to his... how did Flowey’s files say it? Right, _Resonance_. After a few seconds of clumsily trying to tune out everything in your vicinity you began to hear it, the same thunderous and sturdy peals you associated with Twigs’ being but...oh no.

_Nononononononono_ -

There was a change in frequency and amplitude, just like what you heard with Ginger.

_getawaygetwaygetawa̴y̶geta̵̵̷̛̟̗̎͜w̶̶̴̭͕̙̿͘a̶̵̵̟̫̋̈͠ͅỳ̴̵̸͖͙͓̈̇̕g̵̸̸̮̲̊̈́̑͗é̸̵̶̲͙̤̔t̸̴̵͉̣͉͉͑͆ẇ̸̶̵̮͖̮́a̷̶̷͈̟͈͋̂͛ͅý̸̴̸̙̳̖͑ǵ̸̶̶̙͚̻̀ĕ̶̴̶̱̘͇̆̄͝ẁ̷͔͕a̸͍̍y̵̨͖̾͒G̴̠̪͘͝Ẻ̵͙T̷͎̔͝ͅA̷̦͎̿͝W̵͔̗̍A̸̙͖̾̈Ÿ̸͍̠͝G̴̙̺͒Ė̷̜̅T̵̖̂̐A̵̰͒̚W̵̗̖̌Ȁ̴͙̺̓Y̸͈̓̇-_

Your flight-or-fight response kicked in as, almost instinctively, a femur bone of a similar calibre to the one you summoned last night manifested onto your hands, but this time glowing a dull purple and casting a lilac glow on both you and a flabbergasted Twigs; in your clouded state of nothing but intuition and immense panic you managed to refrain yourself from pulling out Twigs’ SOUL and initiating another ENCOUNTER with him, your newfound knowledge of turns (thankfully) managing to knock enough sense into you to not want to dust the moment your surroundings faded into darkness.

Twigs’ stared down at your weapon with an expression that was somehow both amused and bemused, making no move to retaliate with his own (much larger) arsenal of bones as he inspected and ghosted his phalanges over the glimmering femur. “ ** _How curious_** ,” he admired, a toothy, nearly unnerving grin forming on his cracked face. “ ** _Then you must have heard it, the change of my Resonance when my Intent is hostile._** ”

... _huh_?

By the sudden sullen look of his face he must have saw the bewilderment flashing on your own expression, his shoulders sagging as he grated out a weary sigh. “ ** _I... understand if you’re at a loss by all of this, and I had every Intention of explaining SOULs to you in the coming weeks but..._** ” He hesitated, his now-returned eyelights looking to the side distractedly.“ ** _I surmise you’re desiring for one right now, after everything that has occurred?”_**

There was something in the way he was posturing himself that suggested he wasn’t speaking the full truth, that he was fully insisting on skimming a few vital technicalities so you would never know the full story. But, _mostly_ , he just appeared... exceedingly exhausted, like the events of today had all abruptly came crashing down on him and he was only now feeling the brutal repercussions.

You choose to disregard the peculiar absence of sympathy for Twigs as you blankly gaped at him moving to pick up the fallen dossier and the slipped-out files at his feet, his lethargic gait taking him across the room and onto the computer chair(was he expecting you to stand for the entire conversation??), his not-at-all-subtle and uncharacteristic slouch further punctuating his fatigue.

“ ** _You won’t snick at anyone’s HP with the way you’re grasping that femur, Cherub. Put it away before you harm yourself._** ”

With a wary glance at the skeleton and a flustered once over of yourself you let your conjured bone dematerialise, closely observing as it dissolved into millions of ionised atoms, tendrils of purple magic fizzling out like the last few sparks of an ember.

“ ** _Here’s a simple question. Was it the same abnormality you heard with Ginger?_** ”

You nodded slowly, twiddling your boney claws and (very begrudgingly) resolving to plopping down onto the lab floor with a muffled thud, your coccyx only inches away from toppling and falling over a stack of papers. _Old man just had to take that comfy looking seat, didn’t he?_ The skeleton in question’s sockets widened slightly at your answer, plainly oblivious to the inner bemoans and epithets aimed at him before they scrunched back in thought, seemingly having realised something... important, whatever that meant.

“ ** _Resonance is... hmm,_** ” He (after half a minute of muttering and mumbling gibberish to himself) started, “ ** _It is one’s imprint to the world, unique and individual to every monster and human, a specific etch that will cease to exist once the person perishes... scientifically it is described as the natural frequency in which our SOULs intermingle with the magic in the air_** ,” Twigs gazed down at you, his face solemn as he pondered over his next words. (You couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed that he was dumbing it down for you) “ ** _SOULs are the very essences of our selves. It is what defines our Traits, emotions and consciousness at the deepest imaginable level, what we are and what we will ever be condensed into one singular mass._** “

He gave you a few seconds to absorb in this new information, his eyelights flickering over to Flowey’s dossier resting on on the desk. You, on the other hand, were... kinda freaking out over this. Something as integral as a monsters’ core and he didn’t bother to teach you that first and foremost?? It definitely would have avoided a lot of unneeded confusion and frustration!

“ ** _That expression... you’re wondering why I never told you any of this, aren’t you?_** ” Twigs’ smile was sly, resembling... huh. They actually did look like each other when they were both grinning, ‘guess Sans had to inherent something if not his humour or geniality. “ ** _I had my reasons, but if I had prior knowledge of your ability to hear other monsters’ Resonances I would have... felt much more inclined to elucidate._** ”

Accepting his rather lacklustre reason(or excuse, you prefer the latter), you motion for him to continue.

“ ** _No SOUL is alike the other, no matter their similarities on a superficial scale. Two monsters may have the same three Traits, Love, Hope and Compassion, but their SOULs will have distinct magical signatures and different amounts of said Traits, these discrepancies are the dominant causes of the varying Resonances between, for example, me and Inermus_**. **_Now, give me your best description on what my Resonance sounds like._** ” He raised a brow at you, silently beckoning for you to demonstrate.

“ _Very loud. So_ _loud thatif you and all your assistants were squished into a tiny room Iwould still hear yours the clearest,_ ” You carefully replied after a short time of thought, trying to scavenge through your limited vocabulary for any decent adjectives. “ _And... like everybody else’s, it would fluctuate... depending on your moods, I think?_ ”

He calmly nodded, looking like a teacher (finally) satisfied with their student’s answers. “ ** _That is correct. Our emotions are an extrapolation of our SOULs and, as such, our Resonances will change along with it. That is why there was the change in pitch earlier, it was my aggressive Intent being translated through my SOUL and thus into my Resonance. Did it not additionally sound harsher, more guttural and grinding?_** ”

Now that you thought about it his Resonance did sound a bit more... unpleasant. You couldn’t really put it in words without (probably) making him go into a giggling fit, but not only was it more strident it also sounded like it was... warped? Twisted? It was the same situation with Ginger, beneath the more perceptible modifications there was something... darker, yet darker. Would you call it Wicked? Evil?? Vile??? You had no idea how to articulate it!

“ _There is something... else, I don’t know how to enunciate it but it was more... faint and weird and I only spotted it now so-_ “

“ _ **It is my LOVE.**_ ”

“ _Isn’t that... a good thing?_ ”

“ _ **No, it’s an acronym. It stands for Level Of ViolEnce.**_ ” Twigs’ gruff voice turned oddly... emotionless, his slouch now all gone as his piercing eyelights burned into yours. “ _ **It measures one’s capacity to inflict harm on others. The higher it is, the more detached you become and the easier it will be to kill.**_ ”

“ _ **It accentuates belligerent Intent**_ ,” He went on before you could shape a question in your head, his features a pensive frown. “ _ **This is why I tend to be... sporadic and unpredictable, and why you feel such agitation when my anger oscillates. You must have subconsciously cognised that I had enough LOVE to muddle my own judgement and were, rightfully so, feeling threatened with your life.**_ ”

Was... was his why Sans was so unfaltering in helping you escape from here? Because he knew Twigs... killed other monsters...? You knew that DT Extractor on the other side of the laboratory was creepy incarnate but you would have never anticipated that he would be using it to end lives! (okay, maybe you did a little) And what exactly were his assistants helping him with? Were they here to make the killings as inconspicuous as possible?? Oh stars, _were they going to force you into-_

_“_ ** _I did not kill anyone, for Angel’s sake!_** ” Twigs’ hiss was enough to snap you out of your escalating trail of jittery thoughts, having sometime during your internal rambling moved from his seat and scurried in front of you, his hands now tightly griping your shoulder blades just as he did a couple of hours ago. “ _ **Any sort of vitriol done to another’s SOUL will raise your LOVE! Depending on the severity of your Intent both mentally and physically maltreating someone have the potential to increase your EXP, a second acronym that stands for EXecution Points... look, I know I have done despicable things in-**_ ”

“ _How high is it? Your LOVE?_ ” You ambivalently interjected before he could keep expounding, earning a disgruntled scowl from the older skeleton. You knew you will have to tread _very_ carefully with what you’ll be saying from here on out, or else you’d end up unknowingly spilling everything and meeting the business end of his blasters. (Or maybe he’ll just indignantly chastise you, he can’t really do anything about you knowing about his son, can he?)

” _ **High enough to irreversibly disfigure to my SOUL**_ ,” He riposted monotonously, as if he already had this same conversation hundreds of times before. “ _ **Committing violence means going against the inborn nature of a monster to be kind and considerate. Too high and cracks along the surface will form, its incandescent glow will dim and the monster will be prone to frequent mood swings. It is an internal process that will go unseen unless the infected monster’s SOUL is forced out for examination. Gaining LV may make a monster stronger but they become a hollow shell of themselves in the process, bending their mind and Intent to do the unthinkable... do you understand what I’m insinuating, Cherub?**_ ”  
  


“ _That Ginger went berserk because he had an overwhelmingly high LOVE?_ ”   
  


“ ** _Yes, and that is where our problem arises,_** ” Twigs continued, releasing his hold on you to cross his arms, his phalanges tapping on his sleeves. (Was it a nervous habit of his?) “ _ **Ginger did not have an ounce of LOVE leading up to**_ _ **this morning, and now he’s sent himself to the hospital for a health inspection.**_ ”

So _that’s_ where Ginger has been! You presumed the worst happened when you hadn’t heard the mellow peals signature to his Resonance, (you were relieved to finally have a name for this phenomena, the word chime was starting to lose its meaning when you repeated it in your head for the millionth time) but was him going to a building filled with weak monsters really that much of a better alternative?   
  


“ _How can he gain so much LOVE in one single night? Is that possible?_ ” 

“ ** _It_** ** _is wholly possible to slaughter the entire population of the Dreemurr Kingdom overnight if one was Determined to do so, but as far as I know there hasn’t been a single murder reported since the War._** ”

“ _So you’re saying he gained it all... by beating someone up instead?_ ”  
  


Twigs considered your words before shaking his head, his face contemplative as his index phalange stroked his porcelain-like chin reflectively, generating a dulled scraping noise. “ _ **His LV would have to be in the double-digits for him to be delirious enough to kill you without a motive, and normally only homicides would produce that amount of EXP in the span of a few hours, but with how anomalous this case already is I suppose we cannot rule it out just yet.**_ ”

A pregnant silence followed his response as the both of you took in each other’s remarks, a faraway gaze on Twigs’ countenance and a puzzled, frustrated one on yours. A part of you was still having trouble believing that the past however-long length of time actually happened, that Twigs would _never_ deliberately reveal anything personal about himself. But here you were, virtually at your wits’ end after the scientist’s exposition dump, barely restraining yourself from anxiously pulling on your eye socket.   
  
  


After a week of meandering delicately around the subject you finally convinced Twigs to tell you about SOULs, and you _were_ expecting the unexpected but nothing could truly prepare you for what he just laid on you. The whole topic about LOVE and that he apparently had a lot of it? Yeah, that’s not jarring at all and totally didn’t throw you on a loop. But it did explain why you got creeped out so often by the scientist and why he seemed so... not entirely there all the time.

And if his LV is high enough for _that_ , then how much did Ginger accumulate?   
  


You honestly didn’t want to think too much into it, but you found it rather... puzzling that monster SOULs were so weak compared to humans. Like, they can potentially go crazy just because they committed a few acts of cruelty here and there? To the point where the SOUL itself can have permanent damage that would only cause the unfortunate monster to go even more crazy? Was that the true reason why they lost the war in five days? Because their fragile little bodies couldn’t handle a few kills? _Ughh_ , now you just wanted to go back to your bed and (literally) sleep on it, no harm in snoozing a dozen hours ahead of time, right? Twigs will be able to theorise enough for the both of you, anyway.   
  


But there was still _something else_ to tackle, the one that you were sure Twigs was waiting for you to ask: the issue of your own SOUL, or the lack thereof. You didn’t need to ask anymore to know that you didn’t have one, accounting everything that he has told you and the snippets of details here and there from your books it was obvious that eavesdropping on other monsters’ Resonance wasn’t a normal occurrence, or an occurrence _at all,_ and the only optimal explanation was that you didn’t have one of your own to block the rest out.

So, that’s fun. It _also_ clarified why you didn’t have the capacity to feel essentially eighty percent of the emotions that exist out there, and why the ones you _did_ feel felt more like echoes or fabrications of your consciousness than real tangible sensations, but that’s a problem for future you! You had enough on your plate already and you weren’t going to add the massive pile of ‘the lists of things that are wrong with me’ on said plate.

What should you do, then? Help Twigs out with his Ginger problem? Train your magic to better-

...

... _waaaiitttt_.

You carefully nudged at Twigs ribcage, making sure you grabbed his full attention before irritatedly signing what could possibly be the most loaded question you’ve asked since popping into existence. “ _Why didn’t you make a SOUL for me? You did it with Asriel so what makes this time any different? Or was it your Intention to leave me without-_ “

” _ **Asriel has nothing to do with you,**_ ” Twigs curtly cut in through gritted teeth, his sockets narrowing dangerously as if daring you to challenge him. “ _ **Your predicament is another matter entirely, do not delude yourself with false-**_ “

” _No, you made me SOULless for a reason! Why?_ ” You glared at him with the same intensity, trying to get your point across as your signing turned fraught. “ _What is my purpose, Twigs? Why teach me mathematics or history like a normal kid? Why do I have time travelling powers when Asriel’s RESETs made you-_ “

” ** _That is none of your concern, Cherub!_** ”

” _It’s absolutely my concern! I have the right to ask these, don’t I? It’s you who’s depriving me of what you said was ‘the very essences of our selves’! Am I just some sick experiment to see if a monster can survive without a SOUL under a controlled-_ “ 

  
Without warning Twigs clasped both your arms with one hand, preventing you from signing any further, his grasp powerful enough to crack your radii bones and force out a silent scream from you. “ _ **You are not a monster. You are merely an imitation of one, an amalgamation of my magic, human remains and Determination. You may look like a monster but you’ll never be one of us, you may talk like us but you’ll never have the luxury to mingle or fraternise. You**_ **are** _ **an experiment, Cherub, and you will always be one. Do I make myself clear?**_ ”

You could only meekly nod as he raised you by the arms to be eye level with him, his eyelights the sharpest and brightest you’ve ever seen them and his face a terrifying snarl. “ _ **And your purpose? To impede those pesky, detestable humans from ever RESETing to win another war, and to eradicate those who try to.**_ ”

Twigs brought you closer to him, nasal ridges nearly touching and sending another wave of pain through your trembling body. “ _ **Interrupt me again and I will break more than your arms. Now go, Mabel and Pars will arrive any second now.**_ ”  
  


He carelessly released you, your skull hitting the ground with an audible clack in an attempt to protectively hold your arms in the air, drips of dust and Determination trickling onto your face. Amidst the excruciating throbs from your fractured radii you heard the sound of the office door being forcefully opened and closed, leaving you to curl up in a foetal position, your arms tensely hugging your shaky form.

  
But unbeknownst to both you and Twigs, a third skeleton had been listening in to your conversation just outside the room, executing a quick shortcut into the infirmary right before the older skeleton had left to greet his assistants, his pounding mind swarming with an ocean full of conflicting thoughts and the two quick CHECKs he had managed to accomplish.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooooo, is Twigs showing his true colours or is it just his LV talking? Find out next time in dragon ball z!
> 
> This chapter was a beast to write, holy sprinkles! Hope y’all like my (way too in-depth) explanation of SOULs and LOVE! It took a while for me to write this one ‘cause I couldn’t figure how to type out all the concepts of my brain in a way that’s comprehensive and straightforward... I really gotta check if there’s any contradictions once I get a nice cup of hot chocolate.
> 
> I just realised that the A level results are coming out next Tuesday and I’m not ready at all?? Lol????


	14. The Sacred Lies of Chara Dreemurr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara relives their Surface life through a convoluted flashback.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is as dark as it’s gonna get. It has murder, suicide, cults, monster racism, uhhh... reanimation through wacky experiments gone wrong... just tick all your bingo boxes!!
> 
> also, I now have a somewhat reliable schedule! I’m hoping to update this fic every Sunday/Saturday at around 8 am utc+8:00, or about 9 am JST, I think?
> 
> ~~I wonder if anyone will catch onto the reference in the title.~~

Chara grew up in a quaint little village under the shadow of Mount Ebott.

It was known to outsiders as Ebott’s Umbra, but its true name had been lost to them years ago, spoken in an ancient language they forced themself to forget. They distanced themselves as far as they could from their beginnings, forsaken what they had left behind to breathe new life into themselves, discarding their birth name in light of a new (admittedly less creative) one. Erimentha she was the day before her sacrifice, and Chara they became the moment they toppled into the hole and felt their SOUL pulse against the very shield they were supposed to give themselves to.

But that did not mean they never reminisced, never looked back on what they could remember and think of what they could have done instead of falling into the first rift they saw(or couldn’t see, really). They still could recall their mother, the one person who was meant to be their everything but were, in spite of that, stony and aloof. They still could recall the village chieftain, a senile but burly man with a scraggy beard and a pair of golden eyes that shone under the Sun, the same person who had wanted to drag them by the toga shushing and dismissive as he heaved them over to the cliff to slice their throat.

And they still could recall the only human they never grew to hate.

Her name was Adalina, a fair, scrawny girl with freckles decorating her body and youthful eyes as green as the gleaming jewels the adults used for trade; wound around her left forearm were viridescent flowers they were once told were called anthuriums, a token for hospitality and benevolence. The two children were years apart but were nevertheless joined at the hip, always seen playing together by the river bank, snickering and bickering over baby snails and fire ants.

Adalina was an social butterfly while ~~Erimentha~~ Chara was a wallflower. Adalina would help the elders with their vegetable picking while Chara would sneak in at night to steal said vegetables. Adalina would try to adopt every dog she’d see on the street while Chara would only throw them a few pieces of their bread. Green and red, Kindness and Determination, polar opposites but attracted like a pair of magnets, sharing a bond so strong that no one underneath the Heavens could separate the pair.

They were not of one family, but Chara saw them as an older sister anyway. She was as fearless as she was kind, as patient as she was virtuous. She guided them through the village, chased them through the market and followed them into the forest encircling their home, returning only at sundown when their stomachs growled and their bodies were caked in grime, their grins as wide as the melons they ate later for dessert.

With Adalina, their parents did not matter. With Adalina, the crimson geraniums coiled on their right eye did not matter. They were simply two SOULs in a world much too small for their curious selves, fumbling and tumbling over each other until they found the right path to their cottages, back to reality where they were intoned over and over again that ‘they were meant for greatness’ (then why did their father leave them? Why did their mother never care?), that their growing flowers were a symbol of their heritage, of the mages centuries ago who sealed the bygone race of monsters beneath their feet.

Monsters. Demons. Hell spawns. They were all interchangeable for the people of Ebott’s Umbra, it was never one day where they would not hear hushed whispers in the market or in their own home cursing the creatures, where they would not see the chieftain and his wives all crying damnations into the sky, praying for the monsters’ eternal banishment. Chara was too young at the time to truly understand their laments, but they always noticed the frowns and glares Adalina would send the adults’ ways, how she would curse under her breath in the village’s mother tongue and gently take their hand in hers, reminding Chara how important it was to be kind to not only their own species but to every other living being they coincided with, human or not.

But then came the day Adalina approached the genesis of her adolescence, when her dainty form grew more feminine and the anthuriums encased her entire left arm like an ornate embellishment, an array of greens conspicuously flaunting her status as a gifted SOUL, possessing the coveted talent of healing any physical injury and protecting anyone she blessed with a touch of her slender fingertips.

Magic, or SPELLs as the townsfolk labelled it, first manifest at an age of eleven to thirteen for mages, much later than for monsters. Curiously, it would usually happen at the peak of their deepest sleep, where their SOULs would paint their entire room in the shade of their magic, their Resonances the loudest they’ve been and ever will be calling out to anyone who would would listen, some so thunderous that the whole population of the village would be notified of its presence.

The manifestations signified to all who knew that another ritual was to be carried out on the mountain’s tallest precipice, that the Barrier was beckoning for a mage’s death to replenish it once more.

As sad as a fate it was, it had been begrudgingly accepted since the day the War ceased that each SOUL born with the capability of magic was to be given to feed the Barrier’s own gradually depleting resource, for as great and powerful as the seven mages of old were, there was a miscalculation, an abnormality in the conjugation of their SPELL. They had unintentionally made it so that the monsters would be able to absorb the Barrier’s magic over a period of a thousand years, granting the weakest a minuscule increase in their STATs and the strongest elevated abilities and prolonged lifespans, both resulting in the Barrier’s eventual consumption until only one human SOUL would be required to break the SPELL, a SOUL that could be effortlessly harvested by a clumsy slip through any of Mount Ebott’s crevices.

And so a village was established at the base of the great summit, a small faction of humans descendant of those who fought in the War who had made it their life’s only impetus to ensure the monsters below them will never be bestowed the starry horizon ever again. Perhaps it was cruel providence, or a mere uncanny coincidence, for all mages after the Five Day War were born with different buds of flowers protruding from somewhere along their bodies, a primordial and banned hex that drained the lives of anyone who were unfortunate enough to be plagued with it, reducing their lives to only four decades at most, and two at the least.

But Chara, being the nine year old they were, did not know any of this. They only watched with weary eyes as the village chieftain carried a barely conscious Adalina bridal style, his languid, purposeful strides taking the both of them into the dense foliage of Ebott Forest. And being the oblivious and inquisitive nine year old they were, towed closely behind him, their small shape squirming in between the stocky cedar trees, going unseen by the man even when they made a ruckus in the hydrangeas.

The bushes they hid behind were right beside the entrance to an enormous cave overlooking their village and the bustling city many, many kilometres away, its height looming ominously above the three of them. (They had neither seen such a sight nor have been this far away from their home, but from this distance it looked like they could crush the faraway metropolis with just a little pinch of their middle finger and thumb.)

They no longer could remember the words the man had chanted incessantly to the Barrier, but the image of his crazed, wide eyes staring down at their oldest friend with the most manic smile they ever had the displeasure of witnessing was forever seared into their young mind that day, a snapshot that will forever resurface from the darkest depths of their memory no matter how Determined they were to suppress it.

It was two seconds after when they spotted the serrated knife clasped firmly in his left hand, glinting brilliantly in the light of the early Sun as he brought it down to meet Adalina’s neck, slashing a clean, broad slice stretching from one end to the other, causing cascading streaks of crimson blood to gush out from the incision soon after. The child’s eyes immediately started rolling back, her shocked, betrayed expression falling slack as her flailing arms fell limp at her sides and something... green floated from her chest, pulsating and throbbing.

It continued thudding until it finally stabilised seconds later, taut tendrils of magic swathing around itself in a bundle and moulding into a beautiful emerald heart, its bottom tip hovering just above the chieftain’s callused palms as his hands cupped it venerably, completely separating from its bearer.

Adalina was now fully motionless, the only movement from both figures being the light billows of her bloodstained toga and the chieftain’s ragged coat; the younger’s orbs were vacant of life, staring indifferently into the swaying clouds high above her, no longer carrying the same tenderhearted, warm gaze they had the day before.

With one arm the man pushed himself to his feet, his breaths coming in pained grunts as the bones of his spine cracked against the sudden motion; Adalina’s SOUL obediently remained suspended on his unoccupied hand, its glow only getting ever the more brighter as it neared the Barrier, almost as if it were _excited_ to be consumed by the monsters’ prison.

By this point Chara could- _would not_ dare to linger and spy for much longer, urgently fleeing back to their village as quick and nimble as their bare feet could take them. Unshed tears clouded their vision, making them trip over the numerous roots jutting out from the damp earth, their head pounding painfully with the only thought they could conjure in their head.

_Why?_

That question dawdled and loitered even when they returned to their humming mother, who did not spare as much as a glance at them before returning to her knitting, and it kept persistently battering into them days after, when they finally let their all their grief and pain and sadness out forthe world to see, when they screamed and begged and pleaded for any answer that could make all the confusing, conflicting voices _stop_. It still continued repeating over and over again when they knocked as hard as physically possible on the chieftain’s door two weeks after, when they clamoured and beseeched miserably at the man, asking him the same question they’ve been inquiring themself since the day they lost their only friend.

The chieftain, a man who the residents of Ebott’s Umbra worshipped as their leader for the better part of a century, only smiled ruefully at the child, all traces of the ~~murder~~ rite already bleached from his clothing. “As hard as it may be to have dear Adalina leave us, we are all truly grateful for her courageous sacrifice of proffering all she was to the great Barrier. It is in her spilt blood we are exempt from the clenches of the demons festering below us,” He placed a tender hand on their shoulder, his smile growing more genuine. “It is a pious sanctification to be one of the Chosen, ~~Erimentha~~ , in due time you will understand and blissfully accept your destiny with open arms, whenever your time comes.”

_Adalina did not look very ‘blissful’ when_ you _killed her._

With a contemplative frown and nod, Chara left the man that day to attend to their morning duties, a wave of emboldened Determination washing over them as a plan already began assembling in their head, a plan that would be years in the making if they manage to pull it off.

They were to escape before their time comes, and deny them what their village sought so eagerly of them.

After all, what had _anyone_ done for them that would warrant giving their life for? Their father left when they were a baby, their mother never even looked in their direction and the chieftain just wanted to slice them open and take their SOUL! The only person they cared about was now buried in anthuriums six feet underground and they were so very alone and afraid _and-_

Chara derailed that train of thought before it could spiral any further, their expression falling into one of purpose and resolve as they marched back towards the home that did not feel like home.

In the years to come they would discover what exactly made them so ‘special’ and ‘pivotal’ in helping to maintain the Barrier, as it seemed the older they became the more attention they received, the geraniums on their head growing more and more abundant as the adults crooned and gawked, thankful for such a ‘bright SOUL to be used for their protection.’

It turned out that their very existence was an anomaly, a second baby with magical potentiality that shouldn’t have ever been born. In the six centuries before them every generation of children had only one mage conceived into Ebott’s Umbra, or so the curse goes, but Chara was only three years behind Adalina, instead of the twenty or so years that was the norm between one mage and the next.

Chara had eavesdropped on a conversation between the chieftain and their mother once, sitting discreetly against a wall as they craned their neck to peep into the kitchen. They were greeted with the sight of the elderly man’s slouched form with his back turned towards them, a hand grasping a cup of steaming tea while the other’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the dinner table. Their mother sat across from him, her furrowed brows deepening as she looked thoughtfully to the side, her full attention on the the man’s words.

“ ~~Erimentha~~ may be the answer to our prayers, ~~ƨγlA~~ ,” The man said, “They share the Hero’s SOUL Trait. It could be enough to maintain the Barrier for millennia to come and end the cycle permanently; we could have magic again, we could show the world what they have all but forgotten!”

His timbre turned passionate the more he spoke, waving his arm in the air as if he was rallying his men for war. “Those revolting creatures will wither and rot until all that remains in that cave will be dust! Your ~~daughter~~ could do all that! Because of ~~her~~ we could all return to the olden ways of our people!”

Their mother’s only response was a slow bob of her head, barely there but still perceivable. A minute of apprehensive silence followed their (one-sided) conversation, both adults staring intently at each other until their mother sighed exasperatedly, finally relenting and standing up to approach her elder, softly murmuring into his ear words Chara couldn’t quite catch.

But then the chieftain abruptly turned his head, glaring daggers right at them as their mother scowled and returned to her half-made dinner resting on top of of the kitchen counter. The child gave pause, realising that they weren’t as circumspect as they thought they were.

But it mattered not if they found out. They already learned what they needed to know.

Chara merely pursed their lips as a retort, their own glower matching his before strutting back to their room, once again burying themselves in the many books they ~~purloined~~ borrowed from the local library.

With Adalina no longer there to accompany them they had to find other ways of entertainment, or else they may had very well imploded from sheer boredom years ago. (When you’re stuck in a tiny village and the nearest settlement is kilometres away and isn’t even allowed to be visited, you really had to get creative with distracting yourself, but luckily Chara dredged up books before they could spontaneously combust.)

Their main aim, other than curing monotony, of course, was to unearth anything red magic related. If they were to run away from the village without dying within the first month of being free they’d have to familiarise themself with their powers, but after book upon book of information on mostly elemental and green magic they weren’t able to uncover anything concrete on what red mages could do, only footnotes and hearsay from eons of speculation and conjectures.

But it was revealed to them (through perhaps one drink too many) that they were the first ever red SOUL since the conception of their village, and that red SOULs were as rare as they come, only a few dozen ever roaming the Earth concurrently. The chieftain had explained to them then how they were the ‘direct scion of the Hero’, the red mage who was the epicentre of the war effort, the one who had singlehandedly turned the tide in the humans’ favour and the sole reason why the battle between man and monster ended in less than a week.

Red mages possessed a unique type of magic exclusive to red SOULs, a power that only the most Determined could wield and utilise, rumoured in animated gossip to be the manipulation of the domain between time and space, the world between worlds. But the Hero of Legend had reportedly never confirmed or repudiated the claims, apparently deciding that it was best for it to evermore stay ambiguous among the general populace, the truth disclosed only to the other six mages.

They guessed they’d just have to learn the old fashion way.

And the old fashion way it was.

The day Chara spent two full years fretting about arrived two months prematurely, startled awake by the chieftain at much-too-early-to-be-legal in the morning, the man attempting to soundlessly sneak to their bed as he tiptoed around the creaky planks of the floorboard. In his hand held two small capsules- sleeping pills, smuggled through wooden crates from the city and the only modern medicine the child had ever laid their eyes on. Their body stiffened as they realised what exactly he was trying to do, the man muttering incoherently to himself Ana’s he pried open their mouth to force the pills in, just like he did with Adalina and all the unfortunate children the village -no, the _cult_ \- had sacrificed for a race that may not even deserve all this hardship.

A surge of panicked energy coursed through the child, granting them the nerve to slap away his hand with their own and crawl off the bed in a rush. But just before they could jump out from the window they felt a hand tug harshly on their toga, (when the heck did they have that on? They swore they wore their usual clothing to bed...) pulling them back and causing them to fall onto the floor with a resounding thud.

From then on it became a battle of overpowering the other. Chara, being agile and active, had enough stamina to last them for days, but the chieftain, being brute and the one with experience in fighting, had the upper hand. The man kept throwing punches and kicks to their shin to knock them out, but Chara, through either sheer fortune or Determination, dodged, dived and swerved around his attacks. They weren’t particularly graceful in their sidesteps, their movements unpracticed and clumsy as they nearly stumbled over their own footing in their attempts to avoid the man’s hits from landing, but yet- they felt more more Determined than they ever felt in their life. They didn’t want just want to live, they _needed_ to live, if not for themself then for Adalina and whoever else the chieftain and his ancestors had immorally slain.

  
They braced themself and took a deep, unsteady breath, narrowly jumping over a sweep kick before mentally reaching out to their SOUL. They only had their hunches and books to go off of, but summoning magic couldn’t be _that_ hard, right? All they needed to do was to focus and direct their Intent to want to materialise a SPELL and they’d be-

...!

  
Chara watched with widened eyes as everything around them froze still. The chieftain, mid-action with the most vicious snarl of his face, had his balled-up hand come to a halt only a few inches from their nose, the few rays of moonlight seeping in from the curtains lighting up his physique almost ethereally. The clock hanging above their bed stopped ticking, paralysed just before the hands could reach 5:00; the bugs outside ceased their chirping and chittering as did the wind with its howling. Even the puffs and huffs of their breathing couldn’t be heard.

And only a second later (but it felt much longer), everything that stood at a standstill faded into vantablack, the scowling chieftain disappearing first in a flash of white light, followed promptly by Chara’s scarce furniture and bedroom.

... _What just happened._

Chara was much too shocked to move, still reeling over the fact that they _just stopped time_. They laid on the... ground(?) for a few moments, gasping in gulps of air as they recovered from their fight and took in the inky blackness surrounding them. Was this... the world between worlds? The domain between time and space? It certainly didn’t look much, but hey! They weren’t complaining, their magic and in extension wherever they were _did_ just saved their life.

But... how were they supposed to get out of here?!

As if the Void heard their plea a yellow light in their peripheral vision suddenly bursted into life, standing out from the perpetual abyss as it shone a brilliant amber, catching the child’s dazed attention. Squinting through the lustre they saw it was a four-pointed star that was the source of the brightness, its form flickering in and out of existence until the child (eventually and very warily) approached it, their fingers curiously brushing over the surface.  
  


_What in the world is that?!_

Chara jumped back in alarm, their eyes as wide as they naturally could be as they gazed at the bracket of text with a gaped mouth, their arms instinctively shielding their torso. How did... it literally just materialised out of thin air! (Or whatever this place’s equivalent of air was) Now that they took a few steps back they could see the wall of text in its fullest, appearing to be... they honestly did not know what it was. All they understood from it were their location, name and their LV. (STATs were a common part of the introductory chapter in the many books they perused through over the years)

  
They stayed where they were for a couple of seconds, forcing down their fear while they made sure nothing _else_ would leap out of nowhere to scare the skeleton out of them, relaxing and letting their tense shoulders fall only when they saw no other movement in the shadows. They reread the text a couple of times, trying to make sense of the two words ‘continue’, ‘reset’ along with the number on the top right.

Continue was easy enough to figure out, pressing it would most likely take them back to their skirmish with the chieftain, which was something they _definitely_ did not want happening. That man was going to overpower them sooner than later! And the number... if they _had to_ guess it probably meant how long they had their magic for, since it looked almost like a timer that measured in minutes. And reset... where (or when) would it reset them to? To before the chieftain came into their room? To whenever they so desire like in those cool children’s books they read once upon a time? When compared to their limited other option reseting seemed a lot more favourable... it wouldn’t hurt to at least _try_ , they supposed.

They squeezed their eyes shut as they sucked in a breath, allowing their left hand to gently press onto the reset button; the amber star ahead of them shined brighter in reply, glimmering more and more blazingly until it encased the Void in a golden patina, enveloping the child’s vision until all they could see (even with their eyes closed) was a bright yellow light.  
  


When Chara was finally able to safely open their eyes again they were back to laying on their bed, the noises of the insects chittering outside their cottage returning in full force and, most importantly, no grizzled chieftain slinking into their room. They glanced up to their now-ticking clock to read the time, gasping and nearly sputtering as they saw that they somehow, through their magic, reversed time by... two full hours?!

...

They needed to make a run for it, especially now that they were given a providential head-start with their own abilities. 

  
Chara creeped and jumped out of their bedroom window as fast and as carefully as their body could take them, jolting straight into Ebott Forest and the mountain towering in front of them, only stoping for a minute or two to catch their breath before soldiering on. They kept running and running, their legs never faltering once in their tempo as they ducked and slid underneath the arching roots of the pneumatophores sprinkled throughout the woods, their sharp memory from the years they spent exploring finally becoming of use as they took note of each notable rock and natural landmark they ran past. But by an hour in they no longer recognised the scenery they were surrounded by, the fallen leaves beneath their bare feet unturned and undisturbed and the chirps of the crickets much more prominent than in their village. Nonetheless, they kept moving, their pace even speedier and their Determination drumming harder in their chest, urging them to keep going, to keep-  
  


They screamed bloody murder when one of their legs came into contact with a wayward vine, their arms flailing erratically in the air as they lost their balance and started falling right into a deep, deep chasm they had failed to notice in their flurry to get away, the last thing they could remember of the day being three tall, cracked pillars hundreds of metres below them and a pair of concerned emerald eyes staring down at their twitching, convulsing and bleeding body.

* * *

”hey pal, ‘t’s me. woah, don’t worry, I gauze ya.”  
  


Despite his quip Chara frowned distastefully at the male skeleton, closely scrutinising his every move as he crouched down to the shivering monster slowly scooting away from him. Their eyelight was focused, sharp and with a blazing intensity they had never seen in the smaller skeleton in the short week they’ve known them for. It came as no surprise to them, really. It was truly only a matter of time and a few poor choice of words before Gaster - or Twigs, as Vessel liked to call him- to snap in more ways than one. With the amount of LV he allegedly gathered they were more shocked that he hadn’t already become demented and killed everyone he knew by now.

They looked down at the two palpitating, transparent threads connecting them with Vessel and... someone else, the former’s threads much more thicker and secure than the other. It was an... experience to be roped to another person like this, to be somehow able to hear every single thought of someone who wasn’t you, to be able to know how somebody else was feeling in all five senses at _all_ times. (though not like the skeleton could feel much emotionally) And it was a whole _other_ experience to be tied to Vessel specifically. It was question upon question upon, oh wow, another two sets of queries! Ever since their first SAVE they’ve been scattering bits and pieces of information here and there, and although they still couldn’t quite wrap their head around why Vessel would be so curious of a _scarf_ of all things, it was amusing to watch them assume that it was themself doing all the CHECKing, and that it was their own voice who was talking to them. (And observing Vessel trying to comprehend an escalator’s existence was _unquestionably_ an unexpected highlight for them)

It made Chara wonder if they should fully reveal themself to the skeleton, if they should fill them in on the things that Gaster left with more questions than answers, but they did not know how would they react after everything that had already happened to them in the past few hours. Would it be positively? Negatively? Would they think they were going insane from all the stress? Vessel (perhaps they should think of a new name for them...) had already been on edge since their first death by Ginger and Chara wasn’t too interested in listening to them internally blow a gasket again.

~~And they didn’t even want to ponder over the... origins of Vessel, they always felt the need to gag each time it just came to mind.~~ ~~  
  
~~

They couldn’t help but admit that they’ve gotten slightly... _attached_ to the child, and it was not just because they were tied to them like a frickin’ ghost balloon but also because they were, in every sense of the words, hapless and innocent. They were unaware of the abominations that were humans, they had no concept of disloyalty and they were as impressionable as any young child could be, even if mentally they were more their age. They were a clean slate, so much unlike themself and Sans, someone they, through their examinations of his mannerisms around his father, could somewhat relate to.   
  
  


... Ah, to hell with it! They needed all the help they could get!

With their decision set they concentrated their Intent through their link, opening their mouth to mutter the words they gravely hoped wouldn’t come to bite their bum in the near future.

  
*You must tell Sans to teleport you out of the laboratory and continue healing you once he gets you both to safety, it won’t be long until Gaster returns. Move fast and with caution, you have more than your own life on the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Chara chapter!
> 
> This will probably be one of two Chara POVs for the fic, since them and Cherub/Coronet kinda share the same prospective anyway. 
> 
> Sooooo now we know a bit more about their village and cult! I kept most of the details vague however as I wanna save them for a future chapter with Frisk. One thing I can tell you though is that Chara actually fell in the year 2015 since the game’s intro sequence is revealed to be a scene of Chara falling into the Underground, so thaaattt means... this fic takes place hundred of years into the future! Woohoo to that!
> 
> I didn’t include too much of the Underground portion of their life as that’s something I want to be addressed in a different matter (and also ‘cause I didn’t want this to be 10,000 words long oof-)
> 
> And next chapter is gonna be a lighter one, it maay have some dustings of fluff in it but I have no idea how to write happy stuff so it’ll probably be prettttyyy crappy.
> 
> Hope this chapter was enough to fuel some of your theories too~
> 
> #AdalinaDeservedBetter
> 
> and i just realised the value for Chara’s LV in the safe file should be 1 but urghhh I can’t be bothered with changing it right now


	15. The Sky is a Hazy Shade of Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel gets jumpscared.
> 
> Cherub experiences snow.
> 
> (And Chara laughs at their expense.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly lighter one this time ‘cause I feel bad for giving every child in this fic traumatic experiences. But that does not mean we can’t feed the mystery!
> 
> There’s something else I gotta mention as well. Chara may not be a genocidal demon in this fic they’re still not gonna be an angel who has/will do nothing wrong. They, whether they knew it it not, abused Asriel by emotionally coercing him to go with their plan. They guilt tripped him when he wanted to refuse, asking if he didn’t trust him and essentially using their bond as bait so Asriel would comply to getting the buttercups. They called him a crybaby every time he got emotional, making him belittle himself and thus surrender power to Chara. He shifted all the blame to himself, even if the plan was Chara’s idea in the first place. When he was a flower he claimed that he still cared about Chara, that he loved them more than he loved his own parents, even after all the emotional manipulation and abuse! Their relationship wasn’t entirely healthy, and Asriel as of this chapter has only begun to realise that whilst Chara on the other hand... well, we’ll see once we get there.
> 
> Will Chara showcase these same behaviours with Cherub/Coronet? Maybe, maybe not. But I would be lying if I said that Chara is gonna act like a completely normal kid around them. Last chapter showed how messed up their childhood was and the last few paragraphs of said chapter where they’re describing Cherub/Coronet as ‘hapless and innocent’, ‘has no concept of disloyalty’ and also naming them ‘Vessel’ is, well.. slightly disconcerting.
> 
> But hey! There’s such thing as character development for a reason!

Asriel paced nervously through the castle corridors, his claws scratching at his arms for what could be the fifth time that day. The servants who previously crowded the hallways just hours prior had already scattered and dispersed, leaving the prince alone with no one to calm his racing thoughts. He practically sprinted down a flight of stairs, his intensifying wave of anxiety urging him on to do... _something_. He didn’t know what exactly, but he felt like he should be doing anything that would make him a little more useful, even watering the now-budding buttercups of his father’s throne room sounded better than just treading through his home like a white fluffy ball of nerves.

How had he not realised it sooner? A LOAD (or a RESET, it was hard to tell between the two unless it was him who had done it) can’t just subconsciously and conveniently happen when you’re getting yelled out by a stressed-addled queen! There was an entire process to it, having to want it to happen was the first step, and he was too busy internally freaking out over the demeaning words he had all but shouted at his own mother to even consider using his magic, so that meant it was someone else who had initiated a LOAD, and that this someone else had enough Determination to override his own.

He felt a spark of joy at the conclusion, a tiny but genuine smile tugging at his lips. After years and years of messing with the fabric of reality and the people he loved it was no longer his burden and responsibility to mandate over time, he was finally free from what had ultimately turned out to be a curse, even if the memories of him utilising it so wickedly have not and may never will be forgotten. But of course that bolt of jubilance was quickly snuffed out by the dreadful, ominous feeling that there was someone in the Underground who had more DT than he did, which was way, _way_ over the threshold amount for normal monsters.

His mind immediately supplied Gaster, because who else would it be other than the very monster who was trying to manipulate it in the first place? The Royal Scientist who had (unknowingly at the time, he’d give him that) recreated him as a SOULless flower with said viscous substance? But yet he remembered the skeleton telling him the first time they met that he had injected a very dilute sample of it into himself, and had become ‘physically unstable’ as a result. Did Gaster find a solution to circumvent this and was now testing the ability for himself? If so, what was he going to use it for?

Asriel knew he kept secrets, and he didn’t doubt that he had a lot of things he preferred the public to never discover (Angel knows that he had his own treasure trove of secrets too), but the two things that irked him the most was his reluctance to elaborate on how his SOUL was created and exactly how Determination would break the barrier. As far as Asriel knew, it took one human and one monster SOUL to even phase through it. _Sure_ , Determination was what allowed human SOULs to persist after death in the first place but it was only part of a aggregate whole, a significant cog in the machine but a cog no-less.

He understood that it was really none of his business to nose his way into the Royal Scientist’s affairs, but the power to SAVE and RESET... it was not to be underestimated, and definitely not to be taken for granted. He knew by experience. And even if Gaster had the Underground’s best interests at heart and had swore an oath to the king to ‘devote himself to the kingdoms’ benefit for however long it may be’ when he took on the title, it wasn’t easy to resist the temptation to play around with the ability at least once or twice, SOULless or not.

And Asriel had to be honest with himself, someone who’s more than willing to go as far as experimenting on themselves most likely wouldn’t have an innocuous LV of one, and that added indifference of emotions and inconsideration of others would only further heighten the possibility of Gaster going down the same path as ~~he~~ Flowey did when he got sick of repetitiveness. So was he truly the best candidate to be the most Determined and be able to control some of the most powerful magic known to both human and monsterkind?

Probably not. But not like he had the right to judge, anyway.

How _funny_. He criticises his mother for being a hypocrite and yet here he was now hours later, his own thoughts (rightfully) betraying him. He grimaced ruefully at this, his legs swerving around the corner and continuing to trudge on its own accord... until his eyes were momentarily blinded by bright rays of natural light glaring harshly onto his face, earning a grimace-now-turned-disgruntled -frown and a poorly restrained growl of teenage annoyance.

_The Sun! the most effective wake-up call this side of the Underground! Receive your daily dose by visiting the admirable Dreemuur residence and basking its in overrated glory! You won’t ever need to poison yourself with another shot of pure, unadulterated and possibly deadly caffeine with one of the Surface’s many redeeming qualities! It’s free as long as you have at least one functional pupil!_

He glanced around in dull shock and lingering irritation, having somehow in his stupor wandered into Judgement Hall (golly, how ironic), the late-morning streaks of sunlight beaming through the windows, casting long, looming shadows behind both the boss monster and the towering pillars surrounding him. He gazed up and silently admired the stained glass depicting the fabled Delta Rune, emerald eyes narrowing at the thousand year old design.

Another pang of guilt coursed through him at the sight of the emblem, ~~once again~~ reminded of what he had failed to accomplish centuries ago with Chara, what he had been too much of a coward to fulfil. _Would_ his kingdom be living on the Surface peacefully and contentedly if he had went through with the plan? Or would it have lead to another devastating war between the two races, like he had been insistently intoning to himself for the past two years?

Even when he was still a buttercup he had mulled and pondered over Chara’s thoughts and actions throughout the years, had took in every word they said to him and analysed it like that one character from those crime novels they liked to collect from the Dump, had tried to put himself in their shoes and see through their eyes. (Or eye, they never told them if they had a right one or not. Kinda weird, really, but they’ve always been a bit strange, something he would never say outright)

And as Flowey, he thought he had finally cracked the case, thought he understood the odd conducts and habits they’d exhibit on a day-to-day basis, thought he understood the ulterior meaning behind their, frankly, slightly eerie smile. But once he had regained his emotions and his sense of identity, (he’s technically still working on the last part, but never mind that) he realised that he was as much at a loss as he was before his death, that Chara was well and truly an enigma he still couldn’t wholly solve.

Yet, in contrast, Chara understood _him_ , they were the only one who truly did. They had been the mature one of the pair, the one who gave advice and tried to act like a grown-up, the one who had taught him how to knit and the one who shared his fear of being alone. But they also held a deeply rooted hatred for their own people for reasons they never explained. They had put themself down on multiple occasions, laughed off morbid circumstances and had a bizzare interest in knives and chocolate. (The latter he could totally understand though, chocolate rocks.)

But despite all of Chara’s suicidal and self-destructive tendencies they were, first and foremost, a child and a person like any other. They were impressively artistic, Asriel surely doubted he would ever forget the flabbergasted but delighted face his father had when they had managed to knit that ‘Mr Dad Guy’ sweater in one month time. They loved gardening, he remembered as clear as day how they would always drag the to groom some of the flowers in their house. They loved reading, he was pretty sure half of the books they owned were read by them within the first half year of their stay. And they were intelligent, but also quiet and introverted, preferring him to do the talking when the two would meet a friendly passerby during their outings together.

“Wahaha, you’re thinkin’ real deep thoughts, aren’t ya sonny?”

Asriel let out a very un-regal blend of a bleat and a shriek, frantically whipping his head to meet the source of a voice, his face flushing red from embarrassment as he came face-to-face with the literal captain of the Royal Guard. He just squealed like a startled whimsun _in front the freaking captain of the Royal Guard!_

“H-howdy, captain Gerson!” He shakily waved his hand in greeting, his voice cracking from either fear or puberty. He was at that galling stage of life where his voice would constantly refuse to respect him and instead go so high a pitch some less informed/younger monsters automatically assumed that the royal family brought up a daughter instead of a son. He was really looking forward to the day when his voice grew as baritone and low as his father’s.

“It’s not often I see kids so intently inspectin’ the Delta Rune these days! Ol’ King Fluffybuns taught ya somethin’ interestin’ about it lately?” Gerson lightheartedly inquired, thankfully ignoring Asriel’s squeak of unmanliness, his posture slouching from age and war as his left side leaned against his hammer.

But as soon as he was comfortable in his slant his carefree expression fell into one ofconsideration, his trenchant albeit wrinkled good-eye scanning the prince’s face with a prudence only obtained from an epoch of experience. “Or... is it somethin’ else you’re thinkin’ about?”

Asriel sputtered in reply, his eyes widening as he crossed his arms almost defensively, incredulous of how transparent he was seemingly being. (or was Gerson’s ability to read people that unerring?) “I... have no idea what you’re talking about!”

(Never has Gerson Boom witnessed such skill in deflecting uncomfortable situations.)

Gerson blurted out his usual guffaw, his face crinkling in mirth at the teenager’s poor attempt at parrying the issue, casting a humoured glance at the welded Delta Rune before settling his gaze back onto him, his merriment still (irritatedly) apparent. “These old bones have been through many an experiences, boy. I know a nostalgic face when I see one! I’m correct to assume you’re ponderin’ over a cer’ain bobbed-haired human?”

Asriel could only bite his lip and nod defeatedly, his arms slumping back to his sides. Another key difference between him and Chara was that they had an unnaturally impenetrable poker face when they tried hard enough, which basically meant _not trying at all_. (though it sometimes made him wonder why they had to hide their feelings so well in the first place)

“I saw ‘em a couple of times, in Waterfall and in the Castle. Never once did I not see ‘em without you! Playin’ n’ talkin’ n’ drawin’, thick as thieves since day one! Must’ve been close, eh?”

Asriel wouldn’t exactly say that they were ‘thick as thieves’ since _day one_. Chara wasn’t even conscious for half a week when he took them back to Home, only barely alert enough to mutter a name before promptly passing out while he slung their shoulder over his own. Their wounds were... more than extensive, fatal if it weren’t for his mother’s green magic. It was considered a miracle by the doctors that they weren’t dead on impact, the distance between the opening of the cave they fell through and the Ruins being approximately a full kilometre. But... now knowing the main Trait of their SOUL and their status as a mage, it wasn’t too far-fetched that they, maybe, did indeed die, but came back due to their magic.

But he wasn’t about to preach his tragic life story to the captain, so instead he opted for a simple “We were.”

Gerson raised a scaly brow, obviously noticing Asriel’s lack of a detailed answer but, thankfully again, deciding not to press. He understood enough to know that the Crown Prince didn’t have the ideal life despite his rank as a Dreemurr Royal, before and after his resurrection. Asgore had confided in him more than a few times over tea, worriedly saying how reclusive his son had become and how he was no longer the ‘vivacious, optimistic young monster’ he once was.

The old turtle personally had never seen a monster absorb a human SOUL or vice versa, but he was more than sure that the experience wasn’t all barfing rainbows in a field of smiling roses, so he couldn’t quite blame the prince for being at least a little shaken. (Not to mention how painful it looked to dust. As much as he didn’t fear death disintegrating into millions of ashy granules still gave him the jitters every now and again, even centuries after he’s seen thousands of his friends and soldiers die during the War.)

But right before Asriel could say anything further an upbeat, heroic chime rang out from somewhere beneath Gerson’s armour, bouncing off the windows and walls until a reverberating echo could be heard through the entirety of the hall, the ringtone growing louder in both tempo and energy until a chuckling Gerson silenced it, mumbling something along the lines of “Undyne and her knack of stealin’ my phone” as he brought it up to his ear.

The boss monster watched the scene unfold in front of him, his brows furrowing in interest when Gerson’s cheery laugh and grin was brusquely wiped clean from his crinkling face, replaced by a look of pure shock before shifting through a multitude of different emotions, eventually settling on one of solemnness and sobriety. The captain straightened up his droop, his loose hold on hammer tightening as he continued on listening to whoever was on the other line, ending the call a minute later after a few seconds of fumbling his claws over ‘darn touchscreen mumbo jumbo’.

“Who was it?”Asriel asked uncertainly once the captain was done navigating around modern technology, practically leaping at the chance to do anything but mope around the castle like he was initially planning on doing. And besides, wasn’t it one of his duties to help out the Guard whenever he can? He’s even been told before that some human princes join their kingdom’s battalion for a period of time to gain military experience before their crowning, so entertaining the thought of helping the captain didn’t sound _too_ ridiculous.

“It was Wingdings.” Was the turtle’s short and almost curt response.

... this can’t possibly be a coincidence.

Asriel visibly stiffened from Gerson’s uncharacteristic riposte, the malevolence in his voice sounding misplaced when compared to his often jolly timbre. But now his curiosity was more than peaked, and he would just spend the rest of the day or even week worrying if he wasn’t given the offer to assist or _at least_ know a bit more context than only the Royal Scientist’s name. “And why did he call? It is rather unusual for someone like him to be calling you. Did something happen in the laboratory?”

Gerson gritted his teeth, or what he had left of it anyway, and surveyed the prince’s face like he did minutes prior, searching for something in his expression. The captain must have been satisfied with what he saw as his own face softened into unease and apprehension instead of the outright hostility a few moments earlier, his mouth a thin line. “You can say that. You ever heard of the antonyms of a human’s Traits, boy?”

“Uh. Kind of? Is it like Cowardice for Bravery and Agitation for Patience, something like that?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Parroted Gerson gravely, now looking nearly... uncomfortable and perturbed? Oh no. There weren’t many things that could scare the captain after a millennia of living on both the Surface and the Underground, so for him to look even a little spooked...

Asriel swallowed, and let Gerson gather his thoughts.

“All humans and monsters have virtues as well as their vices. We might not have fancy coloured SOULs like those livin’ above us but it does not mean we’re not susceptible to SOUL Corruption. You know about the effects of LOVE on monsters, yeah?”

The boss monster slowly nodded, he _more than knew_ , but he was taking that particular secret to the urn.

“Makes us all unstable n’ aggressive n’ aloof. I’ve seen it in action and it ain’t pretty, weak-willed monsters gradually losin’ themselves to the Corruption until... well, I won’t grace it with a description. Your father is a lucky one, one of the few who still haven’t surrendered himself to his LV in spite of his killin’ streak.”

“Where... where are you going with this?”

“Where I am goin’ with this, my prince,” Gerson drawled firmly, his tone low and foreboding. “Is that a helper of the Royal Scientist gained a shit ton of EXP last night and had to ‘go to the hospital for a check-up’, but neither of us believe that one bit.”

“W-what? How did Dr. Gaster know that they gained LOVE?”

“Said he was actin’ a bit too iffy and suspicious in the lab, twitchy and crazy-eyed. All symptoms of high LV, no doubt ‘bout it. What got me concerned, though, was how he accumulated so much in a few brief hours.”

“He had no LOVE the night before?”

“Nana. That’s why I’m suspectin’ there’s somethin’ a little more... dubious, goin’ on behind the scenes. One of the types of magic vetoed long ago as agreed by both humans and monsters: Corrupted green magic, or more specifically, increasin’ Animosity through SOUL Manipulation.”

If Asriel’s eyes could budge out of his head they would, his jaw going slack as he froze even further, suddenly feeling very, _very_ tense. Magic like that exists? A type of magic that changes the very nature of one’s SOUL without their permission? That alters the culmination of your being without you even knowing about it until it’s too late?? That’s... that’s sacrilege!

There was a chuckle from the captain, but it was dry and without humour.

“You and me both, boy,” Gerson gritted out, his brows scrunching in contempt and derision as his black orbs stared straight into Asriel’s emerald ones, a glint of what looked like dread flashing in them. “That’s why they’re banned. All other antonymic classes of magic received the same fate and was left to rot and be forgotten by the masses. I’ve only ever seen it mentioned in books even older than your great grandfather’s waftin’ dust, and they never even taught how to cast ‘em, just vague warnin’s.”

“So that meant whoever did this-“

“-Is one slippery snail. Wahaha, great minds do think alike!”

... Not the phrase Asriel was intending to use, but it got the point across.

* * *

  
_What._

_The._

*It is not appropriate for a one week old to yawp expletives. I will only explain what I know once ‘Twigs’ is no longer breathing down our necks, or just yours, really. 

If you could scream out of frustration and exasperation, you would. If you could beat up Twigs for being the insidious person he is, you would. If you could pummel the voice in your head that, surprise surprise, was apparently their own individual who only decided to reveal their presence after you died and had all this RESET buffoonery precariously dumped on you into the nearest rough surface, aka the very tempting wall beside you, you would.

*Ditto. Now, could you _please_ utilise your limited time fleeing instead of wasting it on feeling sorry for yourself?

You threateningly glared at the empty air ahead of you, hoping that whoever this... hitchhiker is (you learned of the word when you overheard Twigs complaining to Inermus about an old acquaintance of his, something about ‘that mutt knows nothing about personal space’) can see how openly pissed you are. A week spent hopelessly left in the dark about nearly every topic that actually mattered and the sentient dictionary co-occupying your body never bothered to explain anything?!

You could see Sans shooting a nervous glance at you from the corner of your socket, his movements in swaddling the magic-infused gauze around your arms growing more steadfast while your own eyelight flitted between the door and your radii, trying to think of anything else but the very evident scoffing you could hear in the back of your mind.

The stinging pain from your fractured bones had already faded, having been replaced by a ticklish, numb sensation most concentrated in your forearms, the instilled green magic making quick work of, what you think at least, was a pretty minor wound. (Though Sans’ haunted grimace may have shown otherwise...)

You instead focused your senses and listened in to the varying frequencies permeating in the air, pinpointing the soft but steady hum of the skeleton ahead of you and the distant, dulcet Resonances of Twigs’ group of mingling assistants. There was the lingering peals of Twigs’ own chimes among the different melodies, but it was far too quiet and hushed to suggest the Royal Scientist himself was still in the lab.

*Rather foolish of him to leave you unmonitored and alone. How dimwitted does he think you are?

... you weren’t sure if that was to be treated as a much deserved bash on Twigs or a purposely indirect and vague insult towards you.

“your arms still hertz?”  Sans abruptly cut in, pulling you back to reality as he began unwrapping the now-used gauze from your mended bones, his attention on his work but still managing to lob you an unassuming wink, his grin stretching at the edges almost ... expectedly(??)

Why did he look like he...?

Without any warning (that would have been greatly appreciated) a distinctly undignified, unrestrained snort rang loudly in your skull, erupting into uproarious laughter a moment after, your confusion and chagrin increasing tenfold at the hitchhiker’s reaction as you gazed bewilderedly at the snickering older skeleton- that was until it _clicked_.

... 

Either you should be terrified of Sans’ ability to read people or be in dazed awe of his absolutely horrid taste in jokes.

*I say both. 

Pointedly ignoring the (aggravating) voice’s remark, you gave Sans a silent pity laugh. (Though you’d most certainly be hiding a blink of smile if you hadn’t come out half-cooked.) You tore your socket away from Sans’ smug grin and carefully flexed your phalanges and arms, checking for any other damage that would have... gone through the cracks _._ Stars, his sense of humour was contagious; the mix of Determination and dust that were formerly leaking from your wounds had formed a puddle of crimson and ash beneath your bare feet, the more fluid of the two already drying from the Underground drought.

“ _Thank you,_ ” You signed as gratefully you could convey, your speed deliberately slower. Your hands were already sore from your conversation with Twigs earlier and you didn’t really want them to just pop off and roll onto the floor right after Sans healed you, but you kept that thought to yourself. “ _Your father is... a difficult person to understand_.”

“you know it.” Sans’ grin widened fractionally, but there was a hint of melancholy glinting in his eyelights, betraying his laidback reaction. You couldn’t help but wonder if he still cared about Twigs or was just tolerating him for the sake of staying on his good side, especially now that you knew a little bit more about their... possibly troubling pasts with each other.

He held out his left hand from where he had tucked it in his jacket pockets, offering you to hold it with your own. “I gotta be touching you for you to come along with me when I shortcut, ‘t’ll be a bumpy ride as I just had my magic juice refilled a couple hours ago.”

“ _Magic juice??_ ”

“yep, you heard the entire thing with my pops earlier, I was low on juice and passed out. still have to be mindful, though, teleporting requires speed and precision, and ending up stuck in the wide expanse of the Void doesn’t sound too appealing to me, so it shouldn’t for you either.” He waved his outstretched hand as if in emphasis, clearly taking enjoyment in watching the bafflement unravel on your face, his amused expression telling you he was only seconds away from flinging another pun your way.

Nope- not happening, not on your watch!

You hastily reached out and grasped his hand, sending him a warning glower as you rose to you feet, your height surprisingly rivalling his. (Though you supposed this was the first time you actually saw him standing up, but with Twigs as his father you were expecting him to be, well... _towering_. How old was Sans, anyway?) The grinning skeleton in turn tightened your hold, shutting his sockets in concentration until they flew open seconds after, his right socket void of light while the left a pulsing orb flashing between blue and yellow in (very) quick succession, tendrils of Sans’ magic whirling and drifting from the glowing eye. It all made him look... honestly pretty horrifying.

“What do you call it when a skeleton is having a great time?” 

_Wha-_

  
“An osteoblast.”   
  


The instant you blinked out of astonishment a resounding ‘chk’ resonated from all four directions, the Determination-stained floor suddenly giving way and vanishing beneath the both of you as the lab and everything else with it were drained of all colour and structure, replaced by the suffocating silence of the Void.

  
And for those succinct few milliseconds you spent travelling through the inky medium of the world between worlds you were guided and tethered to the sensation of bone on bone, the tugging hand of the skeleton trumping in front of you (or what you _thought_ was in front of you) preventing you from straying too far into the darkness and instead leading you across a smooth, glass-like surface that wasn’t really there, the faraway roars of eldritch skulls knelling everywhere and nowhere. 

  
When you blinked for the second time you were already planted back onto lilac tiles, the pale teal walls surrounding you old but foreign as you nearly fell to your kneecaps from the vertigo, terribly disoriented, unamused and wanting nothing but to smack that entertained look off of Sans’ face but, _at the very least_ , still alive and attached to all your flimsy limbs. (The Void felt oddly familiar, however... was that where you went when Ginger killed you and started this whole mess?)

  
And that bubbly giggling coming from your ‘friend’ was certainly not helping you with recovering from what essentially felt like getting tossed, trashed and turned by an invisible force that was also simultaneously pulling you in all ten dimensions.

You squinted and scanned your musky surroundings once you recuperated from your dizziness, taking a quick peep at Sans who had walked a few steps away from you, his own eyelights illuminating the dimly lit room as he traced his phalanges over a pile of grimy looking blueprints left abandoned in the corner of the room, seemingly having been left there for a few months at the minimum.

”we’re in Snowdin now, or more specifically, my pop’s workshop and basement,” Sans casually explained as he looked up at you with his hands now back in his pockets, closely watching you approach him while you took in the sights of the tiny room. (you pondered whether Twigs could comfortably fit in here, the ceiling was hanging so low he must have bent his back to even walk around without his skull bumping into it)  “he inherited this house from his parents a couple of decades back and basically handed it over to Grillby once he got too busy with work. me and my bro still crash here during the rare occasion we visit, rocky tends to get cranky when paps forgets to feed him.”

You nodded absentmindedly, socket widening at the poorly written Wingdings scrabbled onto the sheets of frayed blue paper where early drafts and schematics of a rectangular machine were drawn hastily onto the pages. You spotted numerous faded pencil smears dotting all over the Royal Scientist’s handiwork, some so smudged that it blurred out a couple of the tinier sentences, practically rendering the documents moot. (You’d most likely wouldn’t have been able to read the miniature handwriting even if they _weren’t_ ruined. Did no one tell the guy about his ghastly penmanship?)

  
  


The skeleton observing with you was suspiciously quick to dismiss it all, averting his frowning eyes as he gazed at the door on the opposite end of the workshop.  “Just an old project of pops’ that never took off. wanna head out and see the house for yourself?”   
  


He was already beginning to walk out of the workshop before you could even sign a reply, most likely having used a shortcut to avoid the confrontation of... whatever this is. (Could you teleport? You wanted to teleport. You’d happily deal with vertigo all day if you got to travel anywhere you wanted instantly) You defeatedly sighed through your nose once he was out of the room, sneaking another look at the discarded blueprints and the ominous emptiness of the space. Was this machine supposed to be built here, or in the Laboratory in Hotland with his assistants? Because this place definitely didn’t look like much of a workshop when it didn’t have _anything_ in it. 

  
You restrained the urge to sigh again, the voice in your head deadly silent as you opened the wooden door to leave the workshop...

... only for your feet to step on something white? And wet? And soft??

*Congratulations, you just described snow.

Well, that ‘deadly silent’ didn’t last long.

*Just doing my job, or else you’d be barking with questions.

You decided to disregard the hitchhiker’s snarky comeback to crouch down and snatch up a fistful of the damp substance. It thawed and liquified in your hand, dripping down from the tips of your phalanges and cascading back onto the ground, joining a newly fallen blanket of white as... wait, what are those things falling from the cave ceiling? How is it even snowing here??   
  


*Snowflakes. And... magic?

_Ah yes, of course. Magic. Like that explained anything._   
  


You walked around the corner of the large two-storey house and were immediately bombarded with the view of more ice (unsurprisingly), trees and a... box attached to the ground with some type of metal rod??

  
*That’s the most convoluted way of describing a mailbox I’ve ever heard.

  
  


... You also choose to disregard that. 

You sauntered towards it and examined the ‘mailbox.’ It was... pretty immaculate, actually. There was no layer of snow on the top and no scratches or dents of any sorts, the rod wasn’t crooked and... oh, it does have ‘Times New Roman’ inscribed into the front of it, right on top of the hinge. Was that one of Twigs’ parents that Sans mentioned earlier?

From your peripheral vision you saw the skeleton in question sitting lackadaisically on the porch to his father’s house, grinning at you with a raised brow as if he was watching some interesting documentary of an animal being in their natural habitat. He gave a halfhearted wave in your direction but otherwise remained in place when you finally took notice of him, his eyelights no-so-subtly beckoning at the door behind him. 

  
”I know the wind goes right through ya I still wouldn’t recommend staying out here for too long, not with those clothes.” Sans quipped, making no move to get himself inside the house despite his own insistence. “I think paps has a couple of jackets that you might fit in, and uhh... speaking of him, he’s prob’ly inside playing with a couple of puzzles, so you better prepare yourself both physically and mentally, he’s a real sucker for hugs.” 

  
_His brother, huh?_

  
You weren’t sure how you were supposed to steel yourself ‘physically and mentally’, but you kept your face as neutral as possible as you followed Sans to the door, (you’re pretty sure he might had just teleported to it) the male skeleton opening it with a laziness only the most trashiest of slobs could muster. He shot you one final wink as he held the door out for you, his simper stretching to his sockets.

*Your thoughts make it sound like you’re meeting the King instead of your somewhat-brother-but-not-quite-because-you’re-a-lab-experiment.   
  


  
_And that’s the most convoluted way of describing a half-sibling I’ve ever heard._

*... Touché.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh I know I said there would be fluff this chapter but then it got too long and I wanted to meet the deadline soooo- (god I’m so bad at planning chapters, I swear I know where I’m going with this-
> 
> At least y’all can look forward for to the introduction of Papyrus, dinner/snow shenanigans and a much needed talk between a ghost and what (technically) is their decayed body’s skeleton brought to life with the power of magic and science next chapter! Maybe I’ll try for a double update this week...
> 
> Oh yeah! If anyone’s curious here are the ten antonym Traits! As do the normal ones all these do exist in one’s SOUL, just in very varying amounts, especially for the monsters. Feel free to theorise what each of them do.
> 
> Determination- Irresolution Bravery- Cowardice Justice- Vengeance  
> Kindness- Animosity Patience- Agitation Integrity- Dishonesty  
> Perseverance- Indolence Love- Hate Compassion- Indifference  
> Hope- Despair


	16. Leftover breakfast, cereal for lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cherub has a taste of the (somewhat) normal life.
> 
> (And Chara quickly regrets ever revealing themself.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I hope this poorly written fluff (more like the calm before the storm but yknow-‘ isn’t too cringe worthy-

The first thing you saw and felt when entering the house was a flash of orange and the displacement of wind.

“mmph!”

You whipped your head back in a panic, already readying to manifest any magic you had in your (relatively... okay, very small) arsenal. But instead of being met with the view of Twigs stabbing a gaping hole into his son ~~like you were anticipating to happen any second now~~ you saw a unfamiliar, smaller skeleton tackling a chuckling Sans, the latter reflexively gripping onto the doorknob before he could fall over from the added weight.

“SANS! YOU’RE BACK!”

Oh wow.

His volume was... deafening, almost exceedingly so. It was as if the two main aspects of Twigs’ voice were split between the two brothers and then exaggerated to an extreme. Sans’ was more quiet and reserved, but possessed the same potential to lead others if honed (Though Sans seemed far too lazy of a monster to do such a thing), while the slightly shorter skeleton ended up with... well, his father’s amplification. The owner of said booming timbre was currently having the piggyback ride of his life, giggling and raising his arms high into the air, having... somehow during his attack climbed onto his brother’s shoulders.

The boy himself was shorter than you by a few centimetres, donning an orange and white four-striped shirt and a mismatched pair of red and blue socks, the former looking two sizes too large for his feet. His face was more elongated than Sans’, his cheeks much more defined with a tooth or two missing from his maxilla. His oblong-shaped eye sockets were void of eyelights but were expressive all the same, sparkling as if he was long awaiting for the return of his brother.

He likely was.

“hey paps. what you doin’?”

“PUZZLES! BUT I SAW WU AND STOPPED!”

“heh. I can see that. you’ve seen uncle Grillbz yet?”

“STILL WIF MISS FUKU!”

“nice.”

You watched, a bit bewildered, as the (slightly) taller of the two brothers continued walking deeper into the house, not minding at all the pair of tiny hands playfully squishing and stretching his surprisingly malleable cheekbones, the chortling assailant still perched on top of him. The joyful two eventually headed into the room directly in front of you, appearing to be a...??

*Kitchen. Used for cooking, baking and other misdeeds. 

_A... kitchen. Why wasn’t there one in the lab? Doesn’t Twigs need to eat?_

*Instant ramen. I wouldn’t be surprised if he eats it straight out of the packet. Oh, and coffee too. That entire building reeks of oversaturated caffeine.

_You smell what I smell?_

*From what I have observed, yes. But I can tune out the connection between you and I, as I have done until today. 

Huh. Well, that explains it.

You blinked and glanced towards the kitchen, hoping that neither brother had noticed you spacing out and creepily staring at the immaculate maroon wall. You heaved out a puff of relief when you saw the two were too occupied with happily chatting with each other to spot the awkward skeleton standing in their living room. 

“WHERE DID WU GO?”

“visited pops today. he’s busy at work, as usual, but he’s...”

Sans’ mellow voice trained off as you wandered towards a chestnut-coloured chesterfield couch, the plump seats torn and ripped at the seams from years of use but otherwise a suitably comfortable seat. There was also a coffee table positioned ahead of it, its glass surface wiped clean but still dotted with a few scrapes and scratches here and there. To the side of the sofa was an empty stool chair, surrounding it a plethora of children’s toys and puzzles... one of them looking strikingly identical to that colourful cube from days ago.

Looking to your right you saw a staircase leading up to the second floor, a set of banisters overlooking the lounge and a switched-off TV screen, which you could still hear the faint hum of static from the aged outlet it was wired to; just between the cracks of one railing and the next you could make out three looming doors adjacent to each other you assumed to lead into Twigs’ and his sons’ bedrooms, a painting of a... bone hanging to the wall closest to the stairs.

*Homey.

You had no qualms there.

With your curiosity temporarily sated you ambled back into the kitchen, your socket wideningwhen you saw the commotion going on between a very rowdy, animated skeleton and his older brother. Paps (was that his name? It was what you’ve heard Sans call him...) was currently sitting on the counter, his lanky legs dangling off the edge with a...

_Um. Strange voice inside my head, what... is that?_

*Most likely a water sausage, plucked straight from Waterfall.

_He has... a water sausage stuffed halfway into his mouth. He’s not... he’s not going to choke himself, is he?_

*We’ll just have to wait and see.

Not at all feeling any calmer by the hitchhiker’s ominous response you watched Sans simultaneously lift a container of... more food... with one arm and a bottle of... something red with the other from a tall metal appliance, all the while safely plopping Paps back onto the floor with a flick of a glowing finger, the water sausage already devoured and absorbed into nutrients.

You almost were no longer feeling so out of place now that your nerves and worries were, for the most part, put into the back burner, the sight of the younger skeleton so merrily conversing with the older (right after he had so innocently inhaled food the size of his forearm in seconds, no less)igniting something... warm in your sternum you had never felt prior to now. It was exceptionally faint, essentially negligible and probably only a distant echo on what it truly felt like but there was no doubt in your mind on what it was.

It was fondness, or at least reluctant tolerance. But either way it was... nice to see Sans unwind completely and be at ease with his brother after he had sounded so put off by being in his father’s presence and seemed ready to boot out of the True Lab as quickly as physically possible when he was healing you earlier. You... really did not need to know either of them personally to see how much the two brothers cared for each other, the fact only further cemented when you saw Sans’ smile soften fully at Paps’ intricate retelling of his day in kindergarten.

... and then it was immediately smothered when you locked eye sockets with the smaller sibling.

_Uhhhhh-_

*Just act... natural, he seems to be the type to do all the talking.

_What is that supposed to be mean?!_

You were already retreating backwards in the direction of the main door when you were pounced into a bone-crushing hug (how strong is this kid?!) by the grinning skeleton, his sockets excitedly gazing up at you, twinkling and glittering like it was just minutes ago.

“I’M THE GRWET PAPYRUS!”  He exclaimed at the top of his nonexistent lungs, his amiable, cheery smile stretching until it threatened to split his skull in half; he had managed to squeeze you even tighter out of excitement, evidently unaware of his brute and your increasingly stiffening posture. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?”

... what is your name...? Is it the one given to you by Twigs? Or should you come up with one on the spot?

*I call you Vessel, if that’s any better.

_No! That’s even worse than Cherub! Who in their right mind would name someone Vessel?! Are you trying to piss me off?!_

*Because it made the most sense to me at the time. You are a husk, are you not? A SOULless being with no Resonance to call your own, as Gaster had said so? Created with the one purpose to exterminate the race blissfully yet ignorantly frolicking above us all?

_That’s besides the point! Can you not-_

“Coronet. That’s their font name, paps.” 

Sans’ concerned voice abruptly snapped you out of your escalating internal argument, his scrutinising eyelights searching your dazed face as ~~though he was checking if you were any danger to him or his brother.~~ Blinking and embarrassed you peeped back down to see Papyrus wholly oblivious to your stupor, his expression instead looking even more delighted by the discovery of your... apparent moniker.

“WOWIE!! C-...CO... COR... CORONET!” He enthusiastically repeated your name more times than was strictly necessary, (too far and it wouldn’t even sound like a word anymore, just mashed-up slurs) gratefully releasing you from his possibly diamond-flattening embrace as he thoughtfully placed a gloved hand beneath his chin. Unaware to him was that you too were trying it out foryourself, reciting it multiple times over in your head whilst shooting an amused Sans a curious look, wondering how in Asgore’s beard he knew of your Font despite your muteness.

It hadn’t even occurred to you that you even _had_ a Font.

Did he merely improvise one for you or was there something... deeper going on here?

Sans caught your leer and frowned bemusedly (why was he frowning at you?? You just were intrigued, that’s all!), levitating the food container and bottle onto a dining table hugging the wall closest to the door with another flick or two of his carpus, gently lowering them with a soft plop.

“DO WU LIKE PUZZLES?”  The younger brother asked with the same ardor and geniality he seemed to always maintain, his grin never once leaving his countenance. ”I HAVE MANY FROM PAPA, WANNA TAKE A LOOK?”

... stars, you‘ve known him for minutes and he was already making you feel a weird, unfamiliar bow-tied bundle of echoed and potentially fake emotions. How can you even say no to that face?!

*You don’t. All you can do is to let it happen.

Glancing again at Sans for confirmation (who had the nerve to be laughing under his breath, the smiley jerk. C’mon, not even a little assistance from someone who actually knows how to deal with adorable children?!) you nod hesitantly at Papyrus, who looked like he was about seconds away from leaping out of the house window with how thrilled he looked. Wow, seeing how he was practically vibrating out of sheer excitement, you pondered in the back in your mind the likelihood of powering the Underground with Papyrus’ seemingly limitless energy alone.

“YAY!”  He took his hand in yours with an astonishing amount of vigour and strength, sending Sans a merry wave of goodbye despite him pulling the two of you to the other side of the living room only metres away from the older skeleton. You inquisitively watched him inspect each puzzle with the same thoroughness you’ve seen in Twigs with his work, his mittened phalanges tracing over jigsaws, numerous sheets of crosswords, sudoku and... oh no, he’s actually thinking about choosing... noooooo, Papyruuss, anything but the-

“NYEHEHE! THIS ONE!” 

And of course he chose the colourful cube. 

* * *

  
“you hungry, bud?”

You glared at the monster beaming at you with that annoying, smug smirk of his, his elbow resting on the dining table with his palm propping his mandible. He had made no move in helping you at all when you were basically coerced by Papyrus’ puppy eyes to solve what you now know was called the ‘Rubik’s Cube’ for the fourth time in a row, the younger skeleton blaringly telling you how he wanted ‘TO SEE HOW WU DO IT!’ so he’d become the ‘CUBE MASTER!’ And after an another inner quarrel with the hitchhiker on whether breaking Papyrus’ proverbial heart was worth it you had begrudgingly accepted a round of junior jumble, which he had all but shouted at you that they’re ‘HARDER THAN CR...CROSSWORDS!’.

You hated to admit it but you couldn’t help but agree, especially when it took you half an hour to figure out the last few words. But hey! To the stumped skeleton watching your every move you were a hero who descended with a pair of gold-plated wings from the Surface who had singlehandedly solved every puzzle he sent your way, soooo there was one good thing that came out of that fiasco.

And it made you forget about Twigs and his whole... Ginger situation entirely, if just for a little while.

“ _I don’t actually need to eat,_ ” You signed in reply, silently sniggering at Sans’ flabbergasted expression, who had at some point grabbed that red bottle you still haven’t asked about. “ _I can restore my... ‘magic juice’ just by directly absorbing it from the air. Twigs said it was how... moldsmals-_ “ you slowed down there, just barely recalling the word for the species’ name, which luckily didn’t require wriggling your body. _“-get their nutrients too.”_

Sans took a few seconds to take in your words, his sockets gradually widening until you saw a glimpse of mischief flashing in them, his grin suddenly carrying an impish glint. “You saying you never had a crumb of grub at all?”

“ _No. I don’t know if I even can eat._ ”

“Then it looks like you have a lot to _ketchup_ on.”

He was already making a beeline for the kitchen before you even caught onto the supposed joke, leaving you to squint in confusion, internally lament and grudgingly deal with another series of giddy laughter from the passive aggressive ghost-thing inhabiting your being.

What even is ‘ketchup’?

From your peripheral vision you saw Papyrus lifting his gaze from a spoonful of what Sans had called ‘Temmie flakes’, (it resembled pure sugar more than real sustenance, but clearly it wasn’t just you who couldn’t refuse Papyrus’ incessant pleading) the gears in his head turning until an irritated grimace creeped onto his face, an emotion that would have you guffawing out-loud with how comical and misplaced it looked on him.

_See? He agrees with me! Puns are only funny the first time!_

*We both can see as clear as day that Papyrus is hiding a smile behind that glower.

You turned your skull to the side to get a closer look and, sure enough, Papyrus was hardly restraining himself from breaking into a smile, the contours of his mouth already a wobbly, squiggly line and his shoulder blades just seconds away from shaking uncontrollably.

... _and so he is. Urgh, stop being right, you disembodied cauldron of sass incarnate!_

It was at that moment Sans (thankfully) returned from... whatever he was doing in the kitchen with an empty glass in hand, wordlessly placing it down onto the dining table with a teasing simper. He then, still without a single peep,squirted out this... red ... liquid out of the mysterious also-red bottle (why was everything red and why was it so sticky-looking???) into the glass till it was half-full, sliding it across the table with a burst of blue magic.

*Wait, he has to be messing with you, he can’t in any way _genuinely_ want you to drink this.

_Mind CHECKing and explaining what it is?_

*... as you wish.   
  


  
_Something tells me you do not want this anywhere near my face._

*And you are correct to assume so! Please, I beg of you, don’t-

Before your snappy co-pilot could have any further say (which would have fallen on deaf earholes, anyway) you seized the glass with hardened resolution, staring down at both Sans and Papyrus with what you hoped was a challenging smoulder... and proceeded to chug the entirety of the glass’ contents into where your mouth would be.

...

... huh.

You were... actually pleasantly surprised that it didn’t all just start dripping down from your face and end up with you embarrassing yourself in front of two monsters and a fuming inner voice, but, thank the stars, had rather dissolved instantly on contact, sending gentle but tingly waves of green magic through your body. The taste itself was sugary and tangy as the CHECK had described, but the magic infused into it had given it an extra oomph, a little more... pizazz, like... getting hugged by a naturally cuddly person who had brought a mug of steaming golden flower tea to help you fall asleep.

( ~~Where the hell did that description come from...?~~ )

The reaction were immediate. Sans gaped at you through the entire ordeal as if you grew a second skull, his sockets blown wide and jaw slack before letting out the most roaring, boisterous laugh you’ve heard from him yet, a lively “MWEHEHE!” until he was a wheezing mess and had to grip the table edge for support. Whilst Papyrus... just looked outright disgusted yet amazed that you had even entertained the thought, but apart from that had resumed eating refined saccharides in a bowl.

And you also couldn’t forget the disgusted gagging, sneers and unkind imprecations that were being thrown your way by a certain grouchy hitchhiker.

*Y-you... You...!

Haha, take that as payback, hitchhiker!

“o-ok, I uh... really did not expect you to drink that,” Sans remarked between stumbling inhales, trying to not die from cackling too hard.  “hehe- what’s your verdict, then?”

“ _It’s... not the worst thing I could have drunk, that’s for sure. But I can’t say it’s... particularly healthy?_ ” You ended with a perk of your brow and a questioning glance at Papyrus as he sipped on residual cereal milk, which you were sure was also contaminated with magic sugar.“ _Do you both always eat like this?”_

“‘course not,”  The older skeleton defended, now (mostly) recovered and back to lazily slouching on his seat. He reached out with his magic to lift the ketchup off the table, his phalanges easily catching it in mid-air just as he flung it towards him. “we’re on holiday, remember? gotta live a little sometimes.”

Needless to say there were more averse retches coming from your spectre buddy as you watched Sans quaff the entire thing straight from the bottle.

* * *

“BROTHER!! CORONET!! WOOK AT MY SNOW ANGEL!”

You gave Papyrus an avid thumbs up from your position beneath the house’s porch, still (very) nonplussed on what the purpose of a ‘snow angel’ was and why he would consciously subject himself to sinking into snow for long periods of time, but that gleeful look on his face whenever he did so always made your question die out in your throat (or on your phalanges...?), so all you really could do was to hesitantly allow him to indulge in his snow sinking fantasies and hope he doesn’t get stuck.

“so,”

You flinched and peered down at the skeleton laying on the steps next to you, his arms crossed behind his skull as his eyelights bore holes into yours. His grin was still plastered onto his face, as it always was, but now it held a certain tightness to it that made you feel terribly anxious and nervous. “that... conversation you had with my pops, is it all true?” 

Oh _no_ , what are you supposed to _say_ -

*Just speak the truth, there’s no point in hiding anything from him.

You sighed and broke eye contact, deciding that watching Papyrus... pile snow into a giant ball (???) was better than Sans’ scrutinising appraisal. “... _yes_.”

You heard Sans suck in a stuttering breath through his teeth, his posture shifting and tensing uncomfortably at your confirmation. You knew even without looking at him that his usual laidback expression was more of a tense wince, his smile downturned and his eyelights faded and dull. He wanted an explanation, hell, you did too! But you only knew as much as he did!

“ _They did not mistreat me, if that’s what you’re thinking,_ ” You started, letting your sullen gaze fall onto your hands. They were still a bit sore from all your signing with Twigs earlier but with all that green magic that gauze had pumped into you the ache felt more like a weird prickling sensation, as if there was a buffer preventing you from feeling any mire pain. “ _They just tested my intelligence and taught me things. I think they were preparing me for, well... all that ‘eradicate humanity’ stuff._ ”   
  


“and you’d do it with some form of time travel?”

  
” _No? Yes? It’s more like... prevent the humans from using the power themselves so monsters would have a bigger chance at winning the war... and also eliminate those who have a chance of overriding my Determination, which is what allows me to SAVE and RESET, by the way._ ”

“that’s only _if_ another war happens... but I guess pops never liked humans too much.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence after that, both content in watching Papyrus run around and complete what Sans had told you was ‘a snowman replica of himself’, which all things considered, looked pretty darn uncanny for a structure made out of crystallised frozen water. Snowman Papyrus’ face was... relatively geometrical, his smile was slanted to the side and his skull was uneven but the resemblance was there. What you found the most hilarious, though, was that Papyrus added a bulging six-pack to his duplicate’s torso, topping it all off with sculpting semi-proportional biceps onto the snowman’s arms.

You saw Papyrus beam proudly at his creation, his hands resting on his hipbones as he strode around it to inspect every nook and cranny, He let out a triumphant  “NYHEHE!” and did a little victorious twirl (stars, that’s cute) once he was satisfied with his handiwork, turning his head and widely waving his arms to catch Sans’ attention.  “SANS! I WILL MAKE WU NEXT!!”  He was already beginning to gather up handfuls of snow before Sans’ could even reply with a straightforward but appreciative  “ok.”, the older brother’s smile the softest and goofiest you’ve ever seen it.

How are these skeletons even related to the same monster that broke your arms like a freaking toothpick?!

  
  
Papyrus was going to be the second death of you (was that possible? Could you drop dead because of someone’s endearing personality?), and honestly, compared to the other hundreds of ways you could dust by Twigs alone, you were... pretty okay with that. But... this wasn’t the life you could live - and most likely not for a long time - and you were pretty certain that Twigs or one of his assistants have already found out about your... somewhat improvised escape. If you linger here for any longer than a day Twigs will surely teleport here and find you, punish Sans severely as a result and then put a tracker on you or _something_ similar to that caliber. Did you really want to risk all that for just an hour or two more of normality?

  
Well, this was... _bizzare,_ and definitely new. You actually _wanted_ to protect the brothers, you _wanted_ Papyrus to always keep that loveable smile of his, you _wanted_ to get away from them not only for your own benefit, but for their own safety as well. That tolerance you felt from before was now more like... care. You _cared_ about them, and even if you couldn’t truly understand why Sans had done so much for a person he just met, and why he was virtually letting you to move into Snowdin with (relatively) no questions asked, you could still return the favour, and the first step to doing just that was to get out of their metaphorical hair before Twigs came tumbling in with his spooky colourful eyelights.

And so you veered your skull to face Sans, catching his attention just as he was about to walk (or shortcut) to join Papyrus. “ _You know_ _the longer I stay here the more I put you and your brother in danger, right?”_

“... I know,” Sans riposted, nonchalant, but there was a tint of concern and worry in his words. “but remember that monster I mentioned before? The one pops lent this house to? he’s the, heh, _hothead_ that was fighting with him when I was wired to that machine back in the lab. they’ve been close friends since stripes and Grillbz is prob’ly the only monster who can still get through to pops. if we inform him about your... uhh... _predicament_ , maybe he’d-“  
  


You raised your hand to silence him, straining to maintain your neutral expression. “ _If they were to fight, and I mean an ENCOUNTER sort of fight, who would win_?”

“... my pops. his lv is high enough to blast through the entire royal guard if push comes to shove.”

” _Exactly, and I doubt even Twigs himself wants the Underground to lose their only lieutenant-_ ” You winced and stopped signing when you felt a twinge of pain from your radius, your phalanges twitching and spasming from the overtax. Jeez, did Twigs really do that much damage just by applying a bit of force? Gotta remind yourself to never underestimate the guy like, ever. “- _The only safe way out of this is for me to lay low for awhile, until your father get frustrated and presumes I’m dead._ ”

”knowing my pops, that’s not gonna happen. He’ll keep searching and searching until he kneels over from fatigue and dusts.”   
  


“ _Then what else am I supposed to do? Remain here to inevitably be dragged back to the lab with you and Papyrus injured or worse? He will suspect you and teleport here eventually, he’s most likely already turning Hotland upside down as we speak._ ”

Sans stubbornly narrowed his eye sockets at you, his Cheshire grin nearly gone (which was a look that did _not_ suit him, it was like imaging Twigs being happy and carefree, something that just wasn’t feasible) and his posture rigid as he studied your face, his eyelights at the brink of waning out. But right before you felt your Determination start to waver and were about to relent his face fell into one of resignation, breathing out a puff of frustration as he pensively scratched at his crown.  ”... fine. Wait here.”

Mere seconds passed between him vanishing and reappearing in a subtle but powerful crackle of magic, in his hands laid a navy parka and a ziplock bag containing... some type of food, expression downcast but understanding. “the only place my pops doesn’t know much of is the ruins, you should be able recoup for a few days without having to constantly worry about him there. its on the other end of the forest but shouldn’t be too long of a walk,” He held them out for you to reach, his sockets moderately widening as an awareness came over him. “oh, uhh... the only patrol you’ll see roaming around is the canine unit and they’re practically harmless, just throw them a bone and they won’t _dog_ ya.”   
  


You slowly nodded, absorbing in the information and pointedly ignoring the shameless pun and the hitchhiker’s spiel of giggles, pointing at the plastic bag with a raised brow. “ _What’s the food for?_ ”

Sans only chuckled in response, loosely shaking the offending item in his hold, his smile just a bit less forced. “well, now that we know you can eat I got you some of Snowdin’s specialties we had lying around. sucking in magic from the air like a vacuum cleaner sounds great and all but you won’t get a dose of healing magic from it if you wind up getting wounded, so let’s just say that you now owe me twice.”

  
“ _Twice?_ ”

”yep, I worked hard y’know, looking cute for those cinnamon bunnies wasn’t an easy task for a lazybones like me, but good thing I released paps onto the shopkeeper before she could swindle me with a 80% discount.”

You rolled your socket with a blithe but mute titter, reaching out to finally accept the apparel and ‘cinnamon bunnies’. You stopped momentarily when a realisation struck you, though: how many jackets does this skeleton have?? He wore like, three different ones since the moment you’ve met him! It was like he kept changing just for the sake of you noticing and commenting about it... should you even _grant_ him the satisfaction? Because this was definitely leading up to a joke and you didn’t want to so dumbly walk into that but-

“and don’t worry about stealing my parka. I still got a ton of them in my closet, a skele _ton_ -“

_UGH!_

* * *

_You still haven’t given me your name._

_Y_ ou gave a quick scan to your surroundings, your socket squinting through the winter breeze as you trudged and traipsed across the thick, pallid layers of snow, huddling the hood of your parka closer to your face. You had made decent progress through the forest since you left the cosy town an hour ago (not without a teary goodbye hug from Papyrus, of course) having already reached most of the checkpoint stations guarded by the canine unit. The dogs, luckily, didn’t think too much of a monster having a nice ol’ stroll because, _apparently_ , it was a real thing for the people of Snowdin to sometimes leave the comfort of their own homes to head out and take a breather.

Your phantom pal, thankfully, also knew the directions towards the Ruins and the solutions to those ice puzzles that had your coccyx praying for mercy as you slid from one end to the next without any of your own input, causing you to nearly howl in satisfaction and sweet, sweet relief once you had finally skid onto the switch that activated the bridge (that was actually stone painted to look like dirt, which confused the hell out of you at the time until you were told by a entertained hitchhiker that the first bridge connecting the forest to Snowdin was also stone, which may have caused your proverbial brain to short-circuit for a second or two ), your clothes were bitterly cold and wet and _stars_ , that wasn’t a great combination. 

  
*My name matters not. You may simply continue referring to me as ‘hitchhiker’, if that so pleases you.

_Fine, remain anonymous and enigmatic all you like, but can you, if nothing else, explain how we’re... ‘connected’ like this?_

*Think back to when you read Azz-... Asriel’s dossier. It mentioned injecting Determination into a buttercup that so happened to have his dust, resurrecting him as a SOULless shell with an absent Resonance and the ability to time travel. Does that not sound familiar to you?

Taking note of the slip up, your pace fastened when you saw a wooden (chances are it’s stone) sign surrounded by oh-so-horrifying ice in the distance, signalling what Sans had apprised you was ‘where the last station is, the sentry there is blind to everything that doesn’t move - hey, im being very much serious here - All you need to do is to crawl and he won’t see you.’

_We’re... I’m not some copy of you, am I?_

*No. As Gaster had said, you are an amalgam of his magic, human remains and the harvested SOULs’Determination. You are my bones given conscience and a will to survive, an intermediatebetween the two races. But he was idiotic as he was careless to try and play god, what he had done to the Crown Prince inexcusable and unforgivable.

Wait... Twigs had told you that all monsters don’t leave behind anything but a heap of grey and shiny dust when they die (and that was one of the reasons why monsters were always so tightly knit, so there’d be _someone_ who would be there to witness a monster’s dusting, if said monster had no one else) where, depending on how long the monster had been dead for, can either be almost scalding hot or freezing cold. So that meant your hitchhiker buddy had basically just confirmed to you that they were a...

_... you’re human._

*... I was, but that was a long time ago. Like I have already stated, my past life matters not.

You were about to rip your own head off with how secretive and elusive your ghostly companion was being. They quite literally knew all your secrets (not that you had any, anyway), could hear all your thoughts, could shut themselves off from you _by choice_ and could probably possess you if they tried hard enough and they still won’t even let you in at least one detail about themselves?? You weren’t _exactly_ a professional in sharing a body with someone else but you at least knew that this whole ‘camaraderie’ thing should be a two-way street, a joint effort! You were going to go nowhere if all you heard from them was a bunch of tee-hees and dry, sarcastic comments. 

  
*You do know I can hear all this, yes?  
  


_... you still haven’t elaborated on how and why you’re here._

*That I can only harbour a guess, but I’d say it is due to your surplus Determination and what was left of me after my death. We share body and mind, but we are separate people with separate personalities. As to why, I do not know, I am merely along for the ride. 

_Therefore you’re just going to be able to read into my thoughts at all times?_

*Yes. In a way I could describe it as two merged SOULs except with no SOUL at all, bound to each other until the end. 

Uh, that was some weird wording.  
  


_Until the end?_

*Until you shrivel and lose your resolve, I suppose.

That’s... not baleful at all. Not in the slightest.

You were fast approaching the last station to the Ruins’ door, spotting the flash of movement of a black, fluffy tail behind the checkpoint you crouched down until you were just beneath the monster’s field of view, quickly plodding past the sniffing, vest-wearing (was the design on the pink vest also a dog??) sentry until you walked into an open clearing, the trees here of a different breed. Unlike the conifers from minutes before, these trees were... dark, towering and intimidating, their barks thinner and more frail. They all hunched over you in unison, their branches looming high above you and obscuring your view from the Underground's claustrophobic ceiling.

But there was still one _super_ major question that had been nagging, _clawing_ at you since you left Snowdin, and you knew that they were just waiting for you to ask it. 

_Am I truly SOULless?_

*You spent days listening to your chest for any sign for even a flicker of noise and you heard nothing. Why suggest the opposite now?

_You’re tied to me, aren’t you? You must have felt it- that... that rush of care that just... sort of happened_. _That has to mean something, doesn’t it?_

*You already know the answer. Those are mere remnants of my own emotions when I was alive, you are solely feeling the aftershocks of my last few moments.

_You’re saying you felt ‘affection’ when you were dying?_

*I was feeling many, many sentiments at the time. Curiosity, anger, betrayal, sadness, love. It was all... a mess.  


_Sounded like a mess.  
  
  
_

You were at the very end of the woods now, the snow beneath your feet thicker than ever. Standing before you in all its ancient glory was a giant magenta door with the Delta Rune insignia carved into its lintel in perfect, immaculate shapes. It was cracked at the rims from a thousand years of age and decay, the two pillars holding it up threatening to give in to its weight and tumble down onto the woodland floor.  
  


_Is this it?_

*Yes. Home is not too far from the Queen’s cottage, it should be a five-minute walk to the entrance.   
  


You mentally steeled yourself, breathing in deep, soothing breaths as you spared a second to glance back at the serene scenery behind you, the now-faraway figure of the dog monster... smoking a dog treat (??) emboldening you to take the first step into entering the Ruins.

Fuelled with nothing but Determination, Perseverance and the never-ending impudence of a dead human, you gently pushed onto the door, the deep, rumbling croaks of its hinges reverberating all around you as you trekked forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~yes I headcannon that all Sanses laugh similar to Underswap Sans but only when it’s a genuine one~~
> 
> Not much to say other than the fact that this fic actually reached 1000 hits and nearly 100 kudos??? lol?? I haven’t written any fanfiction in three years and wow am I surprised that I actually gotten this far with this one. So um, thank you-
> 
> There’s probably a whole bunch of grammatical errors here but god I need a nap
> 
> Oh yeah, I might plan a separate fanfic that’s a whole bunch of one shots of different characters in this AU, the first one maybe being Gaster’s uh.. mental spiral starting from his first day as Royal Scientist. I don’t know if anyone would actually wanna read that so some yes’s or no’s down in the comments will be much appreciated-


	17. The First Step to ‘Ruins’ing Your Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~Cherub~~ Coronet traverses the Ruins. 
> 
> A deal is made between monster and spirit. 
> 
> (And Chara has their vengeance.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Then is some self-deprecation in this chapter, it goes as fast as it comes but I just wanted to put it out there!

_Why is the only way out of the Ruins through the Queen’s cottage?_

*It isn’t, or wasn’t. The other exits were sealed once most of the populace migrated deeper into the caves.

After a few minutes of trial and error you finally managed to securely tie the sleeves of your(?) parka around your hipbones, the material a bit too rigid to be creased but otherwise feasible. The moment you had shut the Ruins door with a hefty push any indication of bitterly freezing weather had vanished completely, the much hotter drought of the decrepit first home of monsterkind sweeping over you in balmy waves, making you immediately feel way-too-freaking-hot with all your layers on.

You examined your new surroundings, socket narrowing at a flight of stairs at the end of the hallway. The walls here were of similar pigment to the doorway separating Snowdin from the Ruins, a purple array of cracked, long-lived bricks mounted on top of one another, all illuminated by an invisible light-source. (And you were really curious on what this light-source was, but you knew in the back of your mind that the answer was, unsurprisingly, probably going to be magic.)

_For a human, you sure know a lot about the Underground._

*I did not perish the second I fell down here.

_Fell? So was it-_

*Cease that line of thought and _move_.

Groaning internally, you meandered towards the stairs, stiffening in surprise when you walked into a welcoming beige-coloured vestibule with a potted plant to your right, a small bookshelf to your left and two archways that led into different parts of the cozy cottage. The tan floorboards beneath your footfalls were creaky but sturdy and reinforced, built and rebuilt over centuries of being trampled on, not a single fissure to be seen on the floor or elsewhere.

But before you could venture any further into the Queen’s house (emphasis on _Queen_ , you had no idea if it was a major offence to walk into her residence uninvited, even if she wasn’t physically here at the moment) you stopped in your tracks, your gaze fixed on the passage to your left where the flooring had a brighter yellow sheen, the aisle leading down to three closed doors, a brown carpet and... is that a mirror at the end?

*The Queen most likely left the doors unlocked for any monster who wish to take shelter. I doubt she’d mind if you go in and have a check.

You grunted noncommittally in response, hoping that karma won’t want to take a swing at you in the near future as you delved deeper into the cabin, quickly glancing at a pair of blooming red flowers and an unlit candle hanging off the wall; you then made your way to the first door, hand lingering on the doorknob for only a second, heavily considering whether you should really trust a human’s (dead or not) opinion on barging into literal royalty’s property before nonchalantly shrugging and turning it. You’d just have to be careful and not make a scene, sounds easy enough.

Ambling inside it revealed itself to be a small bedroom, its aesthetic a soft red. (Why was everything a different hue here??) There was a bed fit for a young child on your far right, a loaded box of well-kept toys and two monster plushes half your size adjacent to it. The room was also adorned with a wardrobe, a larger bookshelf than the last with a framed photo placed on top, an amateurish drawing of a buttercup and a couple of lights. All in all, perfectly normal... except that it looked like it was cleaned just hours ago.

*Perhaps she visits every week or so to clean? It is still her house, after all.

_If that’s the case, there’s a chance she’s still here._

You perked a brow when you heard no reply from the hitchhiker, the awkward silence stretching almost... morosely; you had gotten somewhat accustomed to their voice now, their (usually uncalled for) wry comments bringing some sound of mind to this entire farce, all the while giving you genuinely useful information when you asked for it. Even when they weren’t ‘talking’ you somehow could still feel their ghostly presence, as if they were actually floating beside you and watching over your shoulder. But now you just felt... utterly alone, like you always were until this morning.

Were they really that afraid of the Queen?

You were already out of the bedroom when you felt your spectre companion slowly return, (and you swore you had heard a quiet sniffle from them, but they dismissively brushed it off as your ‘paranoid imagination’), only sparing a single glimpse at the other two wooden doors, which you assumed led to quarters identical to the first, as you curiously approached the mirror. You knew back in Twigs’ lab there was a dark hallway filled with a row of huge mirrors that just screamed ‘crazy scientist dramatic brooding area’, but you never got the chance to get a good look at yourself, always getting dragged back by the Royal Scientist or one of his assistants to do this and that.

And that’s why you nearly jumped when you finally saw your reflection.

You certainly were a... sorry sight to see. Compared to Twigs, face cracks, oddly circular shaped holes in palms and all, you looked... unfinished. The phalanges of one of your hands started to subconsciously touch over the groove of bone that made do for your lack of a right socket while the phalanges of your other traced over your maxilla, wiping off bits of dirt and grime that had accumulated over your trip through Snowdin Forest. Heh, no wonder Sans had that weird blend of pity and sympathy etched onto his own countenance when he first saw you, he must have thought you were some freak of nature instead of a monster.

But that was what you were, wasn’t it? You weren’t a monster and you definitely weren’t a human. You were an abomination, an unforgivable atrocity committed by a scientist who very likely has barely any sense of morality left and did not know when to stop even when it’s slapping him on the-

*Calm _down_.

Your only rejoinder was to inanely blink back at your mirror image.

*You are what you are, but what you are is not defined by your origins. My... an old friend of mine told me that once, when I had expressed my own distress of being... insufficient and inadequate. I struggle even now to believe in it but I’m... trying, and maybe you should too.

_Huh. That’s... rather heartfelt coming from someone like you._

*Oh? ‘Coming from someone like me?’ You did not know of my existence not a dozen hours ago and you’re already allocating and compartmentalising my personality? What if I had said all that just to shut you up? Your prattling thoughts are an earful already and I could just not want to add self deprecation to that protracted catalogue.

You... did not have much of an answer to that. Every time they ‘spoke’ there was only a slight tinge of emotion to their mostly singsong voice, so you haven’t been able to really discern what they were truly feeling whenever you interacted with them. It was as if they were deliberately closing themselves off with you. (was that a scoff? They were totally scoffing at you!) You couldn’t listen into their thoughts like they _very obviously_ could with you, nor could you read their face like you could with Twigs or Sans, in which the former often hid behind a guise of Indifference while the latter a false front of nonchalance.

_I guess I can only trust you on being sincere, not like I have much of a choice but to listen every word you say, now don’t I?_

You could hear them beginning to retort, but you interrupted them with a harsh glare at the mirror and a motion of your hand. (Any outsider surreptitiously watching you would most likely think you to be insane with how intensely you were scowling at your own reflection, but you paid no mind to that) You imagined instead of yourself in the mirror it was an pesky, goofy-looking human ghost with short hair and a permanent poker face leering back at you, their features laconic.

_I get it, you don’t want to be tethered to me and neither do I, but we’re going to have to work together to find a way to separate us. And for now all we can do is to hide from the very monster that’s coming for our conjoined heads and form a solid plan, and for that to happen I need you to cooperate with me._

You (somewhat) languidly moved away from the mirror, your light steps taking you to the opposite side of the Queen’s cottage. The archway marshalled into a sizeable living room housing a dining table, a gigantic single-seat divan, an even larger bookshelf (the Queen sure had a lot of books to read, but you supposed she did isolate herself for centuries...) and a fireplace with a flame still flickering in and out of existence. You could also catch sight of what you thought was the entrance to a kitchen on the far side of the room, the floorboards shifting into brown tiles.

_So how about a proposition? You can remain anonymous and puzzling all you like, you can even keep laughing at every horrible pun hurled our way as your heart desires, but in exchange I need your knowledge of the Underground and everything magic related so I won’t have to keep repeating the same day over and over again which, by the way, Twigs would instantly know. Sounds like a deal?_

The hitchhiker went dead quiet, soundlessly taking in your offer and reminding you all too well of their abrupt wordlessness only a few minutes ago. Was this what they meant when they explained that they could tune out their connection to you? Were they doing this so you’d wouldn’t hear their reaction? Or does the link between you and them weaken when they get-

*I accept your offer, and in measure of good faith for said proposal could I oh so kindly suggest for you to enter that kitchen and see if there’s any chocolate in the fridge?

_Chocolate?... fridge?_

*It is nature’s way of making up for Mondays, the most effective yet cheapest psychologist on the planet, the one good thing that humans-

_Are you talking about ‘chocolate’ or ‘fridge’???_

*... chocolate. A fridge is what you saw Sans pull food out of.

You resisted the urge to laugh at the spectre’s evident and fervent love for ‘chocolate’, whatever that was, and entered the Queen’s kitchen, slowly too, just to see if they’d irritatedly urge you to walk faster. (which they did) Your porcelain-like feet clinked and clanked against the room’s ceramic tiles, your eyelights zeroing in one the same metal appliance you saw over at Sans’ and Papyrus’ house.

With a bit of guidance and increasingly acute demands you managed to pry open the door hinge with... relative ease. (which basically meant you had almost bashed your skull in with the door when you applied just a little too much force) Upon opening your entire body was instantly bombarded with chilly, super frosted air, causing you to pinch your nose in surprise and nearly slam the door shut.

_Why is it so cold inside?!_

*Because it’s a refrigerator? That’s what they do, they _refrigerate_.

You deadpanned and blatantly ignored the amused tint to their timbre, scanning each and every crevice that this ‘fridge’ had to offer. It was reasonably empty and capacious, but it still had enough food stored inside to surprise both you and the hitchhiker, (just how often did the Queen visit the Ruins?) with three cartons of ‘soy bean milk’, a handful of eggs, lots of bags of ‘flour’ and a ziplock bag filled with... some type of shelled, slimy animal... thing(???) that was kept all the way in the back and a couple others you didn’t even know how to describe.

_So. You never actually explained what ‘chocolate’ looks like._

*Bar-shaped, dark brown in colour and typically wrapped in flimsy aluminium foil.

Your eyelight flitted between one edibles and the next until you spotted something rectangular... ugh, _chilling out_ on one of the shelves. You reached out to pick it up and stuff it into your parka’s pockets before your copilot could further grouch and bemoan on how ‘excruciatingly slow’ you’re being. Which you kinda were, if you had to be honest.

_Uh, are you going to CHECK it, or...?_

*All you need to know is that it’s good for the SOUL, or lack thereof.

Rolling your socket you treaded towards the exit, eventually heading out into what looked to be the front yard. Dead but bright burgundy leaves surrounded the exterior of the cottage in neat, tidied patches, and in front of you stood a towering tree with a thick carob trunk and the same fallen leaves encircling all around it.

*Wait. You should SAVE before we go any further, we don’t know what could happen.

_The last time I did that I actually had to feel Determined first, and right now I just feel like your personal-_

You reflexively shielded your socket just as you saw a spark of gold flashing into being from among one of the leaf patches, its glow dimming considerably once its form stabilised. From this distance it looked even more like a faraway star hundreds of light years away brightening the night sky, twinkling and wobbling as if its light was bouncing and bumping through the atmosphere.

... _what._

*Tada! I have dominion over your Determination as well.

You could hear them holding in their regaled snickers as you left out an agitated huff, crossing your arms and sending a dirty look at the empty air right ahead of you, hoping that, just maybe, they were actually physically(or... spiritually?) there and was being all floaty and well, _dead_.

_Might as well control all my limbs, too._

*I could.

_You... could?!_

*Correct. I am purely only _permitting_ you to take the reigns. Would you like a demonstration?

Just as you were about to profusely and _very_ vehemently refuse whatever this ‘demonstration’ would entail you felt your legs move on their own accord, slowly but surely slogging you to where the SAVE point was hovering with anticipation, its glare growing more brilliant once you stood not more than a metre away from it.

... _can I really not do anything about this?_

*I don’t know, _can_ you?

Your right arm was suddenly lifted without any (of your) input, outstretching it until your phalanges faintly trailed across the yellow star, the now familiar sensation of purpose and resolution spreading all over your form, concentrating the most in your pounding sternum.

  


_You think?! You just... stars, that felt weird._

*I won’t do it unless the need truly arises.

_And that’s when...?_

*When you’re about to die, obviously.

What... how were you even supposed to react to that?! Having your arms and legs move around on their own felt... invading and really, really eerie. It was as though half of your body just... shut down altogether, like the hitchhiker had somehow switched off your motor functions, even if you knew they were still working because you were _watching_ them twitch and turn. You really could nothing but hope that the snippy human who could _literally possess your body_ would keep their word and at least let you have some semblance of a normal life, if that was even possible.

(And you had a sneaking suspicion that it was all an act of petty revenge for guzzling that glass of ketchup earlier)

*It’s not petty if it is rightfully deserved.

You heaved out a weary, exasperated sigh, your displeasure rolling off of you in chaotic, frenzied waves as you looked down at your right arm, flexing your phalanges and metacarpals. They felt... numb and tingly, like you had just woken up and was in an unnatural position all night.

*There’s something I wish to show you.

_Something to show me or something for me to pick up?_

*A bit of both, if it runs in our favour.

_Alright, lead the way._

They guided you through the courtyard and into a short hallway with two diverging paths and thin, entwining vines protruding and slithering off the walls and another raked strip of shimmering leaves marking the entrance to the Queen’s lodgings. You then swivelled to make a sharp left, (and nearly crashing into the wall whilst doing so. Thanks, depth perception, for _not existing_.) passing over another set of budding vines and disregarding the creepy stare of an inquisitive lookingfroggit, pacing just a bit hastier when you saw them attempting to hop to you.

*We’re here.

Your socket widened substantially at the wistful scenery before you, freezing in awe at the hundreds upon thousands of ancient lilac edifices that seemed to go on forever. They were all abandoned and barren, some having even collapsed onto the cavern floor as massive clay boulders, the cracks adorning the ageing buildings deeper and more pronounced. If you squinted hard enough you could even see small silhouettes of stalls and stands on an empty street, a bygone market persevered for millennia to come.

_This is Home?_

*Yes. It was still decently populated when I was alive, but the monsters then dreaded the humans’ wrath, fearing that they would come down from the Surface and ‘finish the job’, so to speak, and migrated further into the Underground.

_Those mages must have chosen the largest cave system in the world for all of... this, to fit._

*A small Mercy for what ultimately led to only hardship and death at the hands of those who imprisoned them.

Even through their deliberately flat voice you could detect a hidden coating of resentment and anger, like they couldn’t help but let a flush of hate out. You raised an intrigued brow at this, now having a pretty good idea on _why_ the hitchhiker went down here to begin with. But what could have happened on the Surface that would have forced them to take such drastic measures? (Oh, won’t you look at that, another sneer)

_You sure don’t like your own race, huh?_

*... there’s a weapon you can snatch on your left.

You saw the sudden subject change coming a mile away, but you, nonetheless, decided to reluctantly humour them with a quick look to your side, spotting a short-bladed knife laying totally unsuspiciously on the ground. (Who just drops and leaves a knife, anyway??)

_A weapon? I have magic, why would I need one?_

*Because your skill is novice at best? You will need a weapon to defend yourself with if Gaster or any other monster pull you into an ENCOUNTER.

Not bothering with a huff by this point you fumingly went to grab it, letting your clawed digits trace over the shape of the hilt and then the bendy blade, frowning a bit when you noticed how dull the material felt.

... _it’s a toy knife._

*Yes. And?

_It’s plastic! How am I supposed to ‘defend myself’ with a blunt edge like this?!_

You absentmindedly flipped the knife into the air with your right hand, deftly catching it with a twist of your palm and a twirl between your phalanges, trying to put your mind off your evidently endless vexation that all seemed to stem from a particular spirit who was basically haunting and terrorising you now, if that obtrusive jeer you just overheard was anything to go by.

*Have you already forgotten what the scientist told you? It is the Intent that matters with monsters, even a stick would hurt if your Intent was malevolent and your will surpasses theirs, which it would be due to your Determination; I can teach you a few techniques, as well.

_Isn’t it just swiping with it and hoping it lands?_

*If only things were so simple.

_Then what about my magic? Or do you-_

“How exactly do I get out of here, Miss...?”

You nearly leaped in terror (did _everything_ and _everyone_ in the Underground have to keep sneaking up on you?!) and summoned your femur bone (which, rather interestingly, was getting more physically stable each time) again at the curt interruption, your skull nervously swerving in the direction of the stranger’s nonplussed voice. It was... coming from the other branching path that you only glimpsed at and were meaning to explore later, and if you listened more closely you could also hear a calmer, much more gentle and motherly voice speak out in answer to the first, and it sounded like they were... laughing?

(Oddly enough it made you nostalgic for the smell of butterscotch and cinnamon, even though you definitely never smelt either in your life.)

You backtracked to the hallway connecting the cottage to the rest of the Ruins, your curiosity (once again) getting the best of you as you craned your skull to get a better angle at the two conversing figures... which you immediately started to regret once you realised you were standing right in front of the Queen of monsters ( ~~she looked as beautiful as she was centuries ago~~ ) and... oh stars, is that a human?!

*No, I think it’s a rock- yes it’s a goddamn human! You’ve seen pictures!

“Oh my, how rude of me to have never given my name! I am Toriel, caretaker of these catacombs and the current acting Queen of monsters.”

“Queen?! Oh god- erm, uhhh... should I bow and call you ‘my majesty’, or something?”

“No need for such sumptuous formalities, young one! Just Toriel, or Tori if you prefer, would do just fine.”

“Okay... um, Tori, back to the question at hand, how do I leave-?!”

The glasses-wearing human, who looked to be a young adult male judging by his broad shoulders and masculine voice, stopped dead in his tracks when his fidgety sky-blue eyes locked with your own shrinking eyelight, his jaw going uncomfortably slack and looking just about to faint and have his ghost prematurely leave his body.

“WHY IS THE GRIM REAPER WEARING A JACKET AND WHY IS IT STARING STRAIGHT AT ME?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Coronet is left-handed, just putting it out there~
> 
> Soooo school started last week and it’s my final year, wohoooo. So, erm, depending on the workload and what exams I have I’m not sure if I can update weekly each time, but I’ll certainly tryyy.
> 
> Oh yeah! I increased the rating for this fic from teen to mature, cause uhh... Chara’s cult really, really sucks and even though it won’t be written in detail, it’ll get mentioned preettyyy heavily. Maybe I should update the tags as well...?
> 
> Edit: for some reason my sleep deprived brain thought chocolate bars were wrapped in plastic sjwusnwnw I changed that huge mistake


	18. Slice to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coronet becomes a third wheel.
> 
> (And Chara tries to argue with them at any chance they get)

“First of all, I’m so sorry about the whole, um- ‘thinking you’re the Grim Reaper’ thing. It was just- heh, the first thing that came to mind when I saw you! So... sorry about that skeledude, or.... skelegal?... do you have anything in your pants??... do you have a gender at all?”

You blinked bemusedly at the tall human - who had apprehensively and apologetically introduced himself as ‘Ludwig’ just an hour ago - and raised a boney brow, watching how he seemed to be furiously contemplating between bolting as far away as he could from you or getting uncomfortably close to see how your bones worked. (You swear he’s staring down at the joints of your hand as if it was the most peculiar thing he’s ever seen in his life.)

*Snrrk- he’s asking if you’re a boy or a girl.

_Well, this is technically your body, so...?_

*... I am not going to answer that.

After the human’s initial... freak out, the Queen had softly reprimanded him for his ”unkindly behaviour” and strictly told him to ”apologise to the dear” - which he did, you gave him that, but he looked all squeamish and his face dangerously pale (his skin nearly matched your pearly white bones, which you pretty sure wasn’t normal for his race), seeming to be two seconds away from fainting on the spot and giving himself a possible minor concussion from falling backwards onto the cold, hard ground.

Which he also almost did, if the Queen hadn’t caught him in time.

And once that encounter - if you could even call it that - was over, the boss monster gave you a maternal smile and motioned for you to follow her back to her cottage. She effortlessly carried the unconscious human in her arms (you had to physically restrain yourself from stroking the fur on her paw, it just... it looked so soft and fluffy!!) and gently put him down onto her bed, which was, give or take, must’ve been thrice as large as the one you had in the lab.

But even with the nurturing and caring air she gave off you couldn’t help but be ever so slightly intimidated by her stature, staying some distance away when she had lead you to the bedroom you were in no less than half an hour ago, practically cooing and doting on you whilst reminding you on how late it was (it wasn’t like you had a watch on you; you were still surprised to find out that it was apparently ten pm, though) and instructing you to “rest and talk when morning comes”.

... you may or may not had spent those next eight hours fully awake and alert.

You can’t say you didn’t _try to_ fall asleep, but when you’re constantly paranoid about a certain other skeleton (who definitely deserved to be called the ‘grim reaper’ more than you did, if the hitchhiker’s amused explanation was anything to go by) and also moderately unnerved that you were laying on a long-dead kid’s bed (which your spectre shadow suspiciously made no sly comment about), it was safe to say that you didn’t have a wink of a sleep, no matter how much your circadian rhythm was yowling at you to relent and close your socket.

All through your unrestful night you had wondered how injured the human was before the Queen found him, remembering the story of how close to death... what was the name of the first Fallen again? Oh right, _Chara_ , was when they fell. Was it possible that he was only one breath away from dying? And if so, would his SOUL just kinda... drift out of his fleshy body and... float above him? Would it just stay there until someone just happened to come across it?

~~If you happened to be that someone, would you have been able to absorb his SOUL and become godlike?~~

And so here you were now the morning after, attempting to patiently wait for the Queen of all monsters (why hadn’t you freaked out yet? You literally just met one of Twigs’ bosses!) return from baking ’butterscotch cinnamon pie’ as you curiously watched the skittish human fumble over his words and twiddle his purple glasses - which, you just noticed, were cracked in one lens.

The hum- _Ludwig_ (such a strange name...) was a lot taller than you but was smaller than the currently-humming-in-the-kitchen sovereign by a few inches; his eyes were a striking blue, his form thin but broad, his freckled complexion a healthy(?) white (not as pallid as it was when he first saw you, anyway) and hair a short and disheveled platinum blonde. His clothes were as scruffy as his curls, a torn grey hoodie with what looked to be a pattern of a galaxy embroidered onto the back, an equally ripped pair of navy jeans and what you thought was a white T-shirt showing itself through the opening of his hooded sweatshirt.

In conclusion, he did not look like he was ready for the tumble of his life.

Though you have _also_ noticed, especially now that you were sitting so close to him, that there was some sort of... persistent buzzing noise coming from somewhere along his chest. You had guessed it to be his Resonance, your suspicions getting steadily more confirmed when you heard it shift as his emotions did. But... you weren’t even trying to listen to it! Or... were human SOULs so strong that you didn’t need to?

“Umm... do you speak?” His jittery voice snapped you out of your scrutinisation, his face looking even more tense as his shoulders raised as if in preparation for a fight (or an escape). “I mean... I hope this isn't offensive to you but the only monsters I’ve met who have actually spoken to me were Toriel and uh... that timid ghost... oh yeah, Nabstablook!”

... _should I know who this ‘Nabstablook’ is?_

*I saw them once in Waterfall. They’re shy but nice. Owns a snail farm with their cousins.

_What’s a snail?_

*The animal you had described before as ‘shelled and slimy’.

Huh... wait, wait- you were getting sidetracked.

You shook your head and raised your hands from underneath the dinging table, signing a quick “No,” to better demonstrate your muteness... until quickly realising that he’d most likely wouldn't understand a word of what you were saying, his perplexed face being more than enough proof of that. Were there even any mute humans on the Surface? Did they have a sign language of their own...??

*They do, but it is not universally learned as it is here.

“Sign language...?” You saw Ludwig perk a brow as he propped his fingers on his chin thoughtfully (it made your bones shudder and clack against each other involuntarily, the human’s behaviour reminding you a bit too much of Twigs’ own mannerisms), his expression contemplative, as though he was internally comparing his culture with your own. “Hmm, I learned a decent amount from my babcia, but... I don’t seem to recognise your gestures, like, at all?? So uhh... Sorry about that.”

“I gotta ask, though,” He continued shortly after, not noticing the questioning glance you sent him, “The rumours I’ve heard said that monsters have been trapped underground for centuries, a thousand years almost, so... how... how do you know modern English?”

“We speak many languages, young one,” The Queen’s warm voice rang out from the kitchen door, her long, upright strides swiftly taking her into the living room with two plates in each paw, both housing a generous slice of mouthwatering pie. “Monsters are a diverse race, all communicating through multitude of methods. Either through words, hands and even magic. As for English, however, we have a... place, in which we quite fittingly call the ‘Dump’, where human trash from the Surface accumulates. Dictionaries and encyclopaedias are among the many, many forgotten belongings that are collected to be rehashed and reused for our children’s education.”

The Queen placed the two steaming plates onto either side of the table, shooting you another of her affable smiles and gesturing towards a three-pronged utensil(...?) she had set down before she went into the kitchen. Her posture relaxed further as she watched you (kinda bemusedly, really) lift up the fork with the clumsiness of an inept toddler, the sight bringing back a memory of centuries past.

“Eat, little one, you must have had a long journey.” The Queen gently said, gazing at you the way a mother would, taking your left hand in hers and readjusting the sharp thingamabob with one adroit movement of her claws, giving you one final pat on the shoulder as she went off to sit a few seats away from you. 

‘A long journey...?’ She knows you’re not from here? Was it that obvious?

*Skeletons are critically endangered, remember? She must suspect you to either be homeless or one of Gaster’s children. The earlier we explain to her the quicker we can get this over with.

_I’ll... maybe later. But what am I supposed to do with this... thing?_

*Fork. And as she said, eat. Using hands for pie are for vandals.

You rolled your socket at no one in particular and stabbed into the slice, (because skewering into your nutriment as if you wanted to murder it in cold dust sure didn’t sound ‘barbaric’), giving the nibble you had speared off another ginger once over. You mentally snickered when you heard the hitchhiker bemoan and whine on how you were  “intentionally stalling just to vex the hell out of me for what, the twentieth time in two days?”, and brought it up to your face.

Even if the novelty of having an invisible mouth wore off by the second cinnamon bunny you were still a little startled by the tingly, ripply sensation coursing through your body, the near overwhelming tang of the butterscotch and the spiciness of the cinnamon overloading your senses. The pie was... good, great even, but maybe a bit too much of a flavour explosion for someone who’s only eaten/drunk/absorbed ketchup and a somewhat less sweet dessert. (You couldn’t help but note how... sugared, everything was. Or were you just hitting the confectionary jackpot for the third consecutive time? Would it be too much of a stretch if you assumed that water sausages were high in saccharides, too?)

“You use our... garbage, as textbooks?”

“If they’re capable of being cleaned, then yes. Much of our everyday technology comes from human salvage as well. We have teams of scientists in the Capital who reverse engineer an... oven, for example, and learn backwards.”

“Huh, cool.” Ludwig’s guise was both shellshocked and awestruck at the boss monster’s explanation, idly twirling the... fork between his fingers as a pensive albeit tiny smile grew on his lips. He then, quite warily, bit into a huge piece of his slice, thoughtful eyes lighting up in giddy wonder as he did so. “Umf- Jeez, Tori, this is the best pie I’ve ever eaten!”

“I’m glad you think so, my child!” The Queen chuckled at the human’s antics, the sound muffled by a paw daintily covering her snout. “It is a recipe I have been perfecting for centuries now. I dare say it gets better each time I bake it!”

Her soft simper suddenly turned... mischievous, devilish even... wait a second, where have you seen that expression before- “And judging by that enamoured expression of yours, it must have been... love at first bite?”

You froze. The human froze. And the boss monster merely waited in anticipation, her impish beam threatening to spilt her fluffy face.

No... it can’t be...

Not the Queen...!

You harnessed your inner Twigs and wheezed out the most disgruntled sigh you could muster, discontentedly watching (and listening) to the two humans and Queen break into an abrupt, unrestrained fit of giggles, wondering how on Earth you ended up in the midst of royal company and a boy who would have been killed and SOUL harvested hours ago if it weren’t for said royal company, all this superbly topped off by a ghost inhabiting your mind.

*Ppffttt- hahaha! Oh stars, your face! It looks so... utterly disappointed and crestfallen in life and all that it - _hehe_ \- offers!

_Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Let’s see if you’ll keep laughing if I gobble up that ketchup-doused quiche Sans offered._

*Bleh- You wish! Remember it’s _me_ who’s in control here, and that very much includes circumventing situations involving anything related to that horrid condiment!

_Not if I figure out how to stop you first! Yesterday was the first and last time you’re going to move my limbs like some weird ghostly marionette! All magic is based on Intent, isn’t it? So I’ll just have to try and rebel-_

“Oh, Ludwig?”

Sh- uh, _crap_. You might had just almost forgotten that you weren’t actually alone with only your and another’s bickering thoughts to keep you company and that there were two perfectly normal people eating a perfectly normal meal no less than a metre away from you.

You bashfully glanced between the two of them (what’s with you and spacing out in the middle of someone’s house?... maybe it’s easier to just blame Twigs for the bad habit and the hitchhiker for encouraging such habit), embarrassed on how you’ve must’ve looked like a creepy halfwit zoning out and staring at nothing but a terribly plain beige wall.

“Yes?”

“Hmm, how shall I word this...?” The Queen tapped her claws on the table thoughtfully as her mahogany eyes narrowed, her gaze askance. “You do not by any means need to answer if it makes you uncomfortable but-”

“You’re asking why I fell down here, even with all the rumours about living, breathing monsters lurking underneath Mt. Ebott and the five missing cases that were never solved?”

“Why yes,” She blinked in surprise, but her expression fell back into regal composure so swiftly that you barely even noticed she had emoted at all. “You see, I had been the one who greeted each and every human who fell into the Ruins, and I still remember their faces so, so vividly even if it had been centuries since I last saw some of them... they were all so different from one another, SOULs each a different shade of hue. Some were short, some were tall. Some were young, some were more mature. But in the end they had all left me with Hope shining in their eyes, all soundlessly and stoically promising that they would be safe on their own, that they...“

She paused for a few seconds to gather herself, a paw on her chest as she closed her eyes and sullenly frowned. She looked as if reminiscing about any of the humans physically pained her, memories of a bygone era still fresh on her mind despite how long it had been since the first or even the fifth one fell.

And yet... she already _looked_ exhausted before the conversation even started, being first noticed when you saw that she had a sort of subdued slouch to her usually regal posture. Her fatigue was only further exacerbated by the unpleasant subject she evidently tried to avoid thinking about, the dark circles under her eyes looking ever the more distinguished against her white fur.

“It was never long until word spread into the Ruins of a newly harvested human SOUL, and I... I would always put the blame on myself for ever letting them leave, for ever letting them into the lion’s den even when I knew how dangerous and perilous it was for every one of them. I would damn and condemn my husband, King Asgore, for going against what he believed in for the sake of “providing Hope for the people”... pathetic, is it not? History repeats itself over and over, again and again and yet I did nothing but provide them with modest shelter for a few months at most and a few days at the very least, never taking the final initiative in directly accompanying them on their travels.”

Out the corner of your socket you saw Ludwig gulping and frowning sympathetically at the Queen’s words, quietly squirming in his seat as his face scrunched up in either concentration or agitation, his teeth bared just a tad.

“I’m uhh... not really sure about the other humans b-but...” He nervously scratched and ran his fingers over his tousled head, ruffling his hair into looking even more like a disfigured bird’s nest. “I’m pretty sure I was... erm... actually thrown down here.”

“Thrown?!”

Ludwig’s troubled visage turned... oddly pink(??), nodding once as he crossed his arms, pointedly not making direct eye contact with either you or the fuming monarch. “My class was doing a outdoor biology project in the buttercup fields near Ebott forest, and I got... umm... kinda distracted and went to take a breather. Next thing I knew I was surrounded by these... hooded men? Women? Eugh, people who... stared at my chest like a bunch of weirdos and knocked me unconscious, I think? It’s all a bit of a blur, really. But I knew for sure that I didn’t somehow sleepwalk to Mt. Ebott or....”  
  


You couldn’t quite catch the last few words the human had murmured but it seemed the boss monster did, immediately standing up from her chair as she rushed to tightly embrace him, tears threatening to shed from the both of them as Ludwig made no hesitation to hug back. 

...

Oh boy. this is, uh... awkward.

*Only for you.

_Huh? Where is this... frantic need to roll my sockets again coming from? Hmm, I must have just imagined a voice sarcastically commenting about every aspect of my life._

*Oh shush. Don’t make this even more ‘awkward’ by staring off into the distance again.

“My child- Ludwig,” The Queen spoke after a moment of hushed whispers and reassuring coos. She released her grip to only lightly grasp at Ludwig’s shoulders as she drew back to get a better look at him, her features solemn but sanguine. “I’m afraid to say this but those... _cretins_ have forced you into a curse so dreadful that I would never allow even the worst of enemies to ever experience, a vex that guarantees our eternal imprisonment lest we take the lives of seven human SOULs, forcing my race to become the very thing we feared so frightfully. But I promise, and I do not make promises often, that for as long as I’m alive and breathing I will do everything within my power to ensure your safety, happiness and protection here, and I will gladly FIGHT anyone who would dare utter the opposite.”

The corners of Ludwig’s eyes were already brimming with newly formed tears when he glanced up to meet your ruminative (but also very uncomfortable) eyelight, shifting his form until his arm was outstretchedat a clumsy angle as the Queen looked back at you with the same tender tone she had before.

“Umm... would you... like to join our group hug?”

... _he’s not being serious... is he?_

*That type of expression on the both of them? Definitely not.

With a wary glimpse, an uneasy exhale of breath and a few more seconds of cautious contemplation you reluctantly stood up to slowly amble towards them, the Queen’s grin welcomingand placating as you attempted to copy their postures... only to be practically pulled into the embrace by the human and getting nearly jagged between the ribs by his fingers if it weren’t for your quick swerve and duck.

“Oh fu- uhh I mean, s-sorry! Did I poke your organs through your ribcage?? Oh god, I hope not, I really didn’t mean it- I’m just used to fleshy, squishy beings and your bones are kinda hard and sharp and...”

“... uhh... do you have organs??”

You retaliated with a jab to his chest.   


* * *

The boss monster and her now-practically-adopted-kid’s conversation eventually fizzled into nonsensical static as you gradually lost interest in their small talk. Idling shifting a morsel of the last few bites of your pie you distractedly fiddled with the sleeves of your parka, mind going a mile a minute now that you were given the chance to... attempt to plan your next few steps.

*You should tell her.

_About what?_

*You. Gaster. Asriel. Perhaps even Sans for good measure.

_I... I don’t know if that’s a good idea._

*How is it not? You won’t have to keep running, you wouldn’t have to continuously look behind your back. You’d be allowed to live the way you want to. Gaster will most certainly be punished and at the very least laid off from his position while Sans won’t have to worry about protecting his brother or himself-

_That’s the thing._

*What ‘thing’?

They knew perfectly well what the ‘thing’ was, they could read your thoughts for Angel’s sake! You stabbed the fork into the pie with way more force than was needed, your brow furrowing irritatedly as you glared down at the offending plate of food as if it was the source of all your problems. It may not be the annoying spirit’s visage, but it surely could still act as an outlet for your pent-up frustrations.

_Those experiments he did on the prince alone is enough incentive to force him to permanently hang up his coat! How do you think they would fare with the knowledge of their only son being a SOULless flower for how many months and that he has, or had, the ability to rewind time? Now pile that up with me, Sans and himself... I don’t think the King and Queen would allow him to live. But he’s the only Royal Scientist the kingdom has, what would happen-_

*They would just promote one of his assistants, plain and simple.

_His assistants would get fired by association! Creating me definitely wasn’t a one-monster effort! But that’s wasn’t what I was referring to, you know that. It’s Sans, Papyrus and the rest of the kingdom that I’m worried about._

You were going to crush your fork with your increasingly harsher grip sooner than later if the hitchhiker kept pressing all your buttons like this, and they darn well knew it... would it be a bad idea if you dismissed yourselfand left without the Queen’s permission?

*Why would you think Sans would feel anything but relief if Gaster was to be terminated? It would be considered a Mercy to spare the brothers of his pitiless demeanour! He broke your arms like it was nothing but a meagre stick in the mud! And that was only when you talked back to him! What do you think he would do if he, I don’t know, found out you’ve escaped from the lab and was now hiding out in the Queen’s house?

... _my point is that Twigs is more than just a scientist with questionable and dubious morals! Everyone, and I mean everyone, is looking to him to break the Barrier without further murder. SOULs... they sound so... fragile, and to have thousands of monsters’ Hope shatter with a bark of an order... do you know how many monsters, both heathy and unhealthy, would fall down when they discover what he’s been doing behind closed doors? How many would lose trust in the Crown for allowing Twigs in such a position as they clamour and bay at the castle’s gates for the resumption of killing fallen humans?_

*And you would prefer to live in perpetual fear of a monster who cares not for your being, and only of what you could be used for? You would rather have the scientist continue spiralling down with his crooked sense of ethicality? Ves- _Coronet_ , listen to me, do you _wish_ to become a tool to exact terror and devastation on the human race? Do you _want_ to be nothing more than a buffer against human magic? Consider this, he may do more bad than good if you permit him to go down this path, he may bring in live monsters to inject Determination with. He has already done it on my body, so what’s stopping him from doing the same to the rest?

You stiffened in shock (but yet again you really weren’t all that shocked) when you saw that you had just unmistakably bent the fork into an acute angle with how firmly you were clutching it; oh great, how were you supposed to eat the pie without being a ‘vandal’ now? Should you just be inconspicuous about it and-... _ohstarsyoujustbroketheQueen’sfork_. You timorously peeked at the conversing monarch because _what if this was super expensive or one of a kind or-_

*... you’re fine. She’s royalty, she can get as many forks as she wants.

_But what if she’s... attached to it, or something?! What if this was the first fork she was ever given back when she was a child and-_

*I don’t think she’s that much of a... utensil connoisseur. But back to the topic at hand, you distracted coconut! You’re not getting out of this that easily! While you were hiding behind that beanie bag I watched their interactions between each other; Sans may be fully capable of plastering a facade with that smiley grin of his but even then I could still tell that he’s absolutely terrified of his father and that he desperately wanted to teleport out of that lab the moment they locked eye sockets. He struggles in even calling him his father! How could he want to live anywhere near his roof?

_Because he still cares about him! He said it loud and clear that he would get the lieutenant’ help, a childhood friend of his father’s, and not the the Royals’, meaning that he doesn’t want his father to come to any real harm. He still believes Twigs could become a better person! And if monster SOULs are comprised of what I’ve been made to believe then why should I not think the same? Why should I not give Twigs a chance when I’ve only known him for a week? Why should I even believe you? A human, someone who’s part of the same race that sealed us?_

*My ‘race’ doesn’t matter. I’m trying to help you and in extension the rest of monsterkind! You and Sans are giving the scientist too much credit. His LV is high, dangerously high, and it has been that way for, presumably, years. A SOUL like that is cracked, his Traits distorted. He might as well doesn’t have one at all! He isn’t and never will be the same monster he was before he started fooling around with something he shouldn’t have, and there is nothing you can do to change that. He won’t hold back if, no- _once_ he finds you. And the same can be said for his assistant.

You plopped the now useless and very crooked fork back onto the table with shaky phalanges, peeping every so often at the chatting pair as you tried not to snap both literally and figuratively. Your host maybe a queen and probably rich beyond compare but you doubted she would appreciate you slamming her plate on the ground in an effort to get your spectre buddy (who wasn’t being much of a buddy right now) to shut the hell up.

*You are allowing your ‘emotions’ to determine your decisions. Didn’t I already say that they were fake? Simulated? Not real? Or is that concept just not able to get through that thick skull of yours? Let me reiterate to you one last time, then. You are SOULless. You do not actually care for them. You can not care at all! It will only cause you pain in the end! So, just let me- 

_Why does it matter if I can’t truly feel compassion?! It’s good to feel these things, isn’t it?_

*They are, and that’s the issue! Your ‘compassion’? your ‘sympathy’? They will fade in time, and you will feel nothing but the will to keep going and the need to know more, without considering any of the potential consequences! Asriel was... _is_ one the most kindest, most tenderhearted monsters that- ahem, judging from all the news going around, you could ever meet. And look what Gaster had done to him! What he had done to himself!

_Ughhh- that’s enough! You’re giving me a headache! If we keep arguing like this we’re just going to go around in circles! We’ll negotiate on how to deal with Twigs later. Right now we kindahave a bigger problem on our hands, like that human over there._

*How is your safety not a ‘big problem’?

_Just shut up._

*Hmm. So this is what you do when you know you’re in the wrong? Get defensive and avoid all my points like the plague? I was expecting something at least a _little_ better than that.

_Shut. Up. I’m trying to listen to the human speak._

*Fine. Do as you may.

You could feel their anger boiling fiercely and passionately through you, their aloof and unperturbed facade slipping into something a lot more... emotional and vulnerable. They were trying to reel their emotions back in, forcefully biting their tongue so they wouldn’t lash out and potentially cause a scene with the boss monster and human still present.

*Stop analysing me!

_Can’t help it when your indignation is causing some weird domino effect on my own emotions!_

*I.. well, I suppose-

“Is it... safe for me to leave the Ruins?”

The rest of the hitchhiker’s words died in their throat at the mention of something that was finally not baking related, both you and them growing deadly quiet as you tried not to make it too obvious that you only just now were listening to their conversation and hadn’t tuned out for more than half of it.

“If you had arrived here no less than a mere few years ago I would have tried to get you to stay in the Ruins, as I had done with the others,” The Queen ruefully stated, the gaiety in her voice gone in an instant. “But since then my son had returned from dust and my title as Queen renewed, and in that I have become a different monster, one that I Hope would not make the foolish mistake to keep silent and idle by any longer.”

Her eyes sharpened and hardened into something you had only seen in one other monster, the glint in her eyes intense and blazing. It was a fiery look that meant pain for anyone who tried to get in the way of her ideals, a resolute gaze that could be described with just one word: Determination.

“I will uphold what I had promised to you and do what I must to ensure you a good life here; but even with the decree Asgore and I had written on declaring for no further fallen humans to come to any harm there are still small coteries of monsters throughout the Underground who... don’t agree with my beliefs, so to speak, those who would not take too kindly to a human such as yourself walking amongst us.”

She reached out to gently take his hands in her much larger and fluffier ones, her face reflective and weary before morphing back into the same staunchness it was moments ago. And behind it all was the same loving, maternal timbre she nearly always exuded, supplying a type of comfort that only she and so few others seemed to have.

“You will need to learn how to defend yourself against such monsters, not through FIGHTing them, however, but though ACTing and placating them until they no longer wish to hurt you and instead grant you MERCY. I can teach you the ways of an ENCOUNTER, if you like, and help you familiarise yourself with monster culture and customs.”

“... um, Tori... I’m alright with not fighting and all but... why do some of the verbs and nouns sound like they’re in capitals?”

“That’s because they are, my child.”

“... uhhhh, why?”

“... let’s just say monsters monarchies have never been one for being creative with their names, both historically and presently.”

“That’s... definitely not the strangest thing I’ve heard all day, at least.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, whoops?? Let’s just say chemistry kicked me where it hurts last week and I spent most of said week reviewing and worrying about university admissions... which I still am doing now tbh-
> 
> Alssooo, I’ve decided that once I’m done with this arc I’ll write up a four-part series (Where each chapter is probably like... 5,000 words long lol) about Gaster and in extension the skelebros prior to the events of the fic, as there’s a whole bunch of backstory to them that would otherwise be kinda awkward to be put in here. It’ll contain fluff, romance (which will include implied SOUL sex and the topic of how monsters make bebehs, its uh... kinda important to how a certain someone dusts), drama, spoilers, unhealthy coping mechanisms and lots and lots of angst ;)
> 
> Speaking of Gaster were going to see how he’s faring in the next chapter so that should be fuunnn
> 
> And have this quick ref I did of ludwig when I was making him. I’m not sure if I should put this into the appendix chapter as it’s kinda a spoiler and all but we’ll seeeee.
> 
> And!! It’s sept 15th for me right now, that means it’s Undertale’s fifth anniversary today! Woohoo!... Damn I feel old.


	19. No Rest for the Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gaster tries not to crack under the pressure of his SOUL.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are hints of depression, PTSD, suicidal thoughts, child abuse, the mourning of a dead loved one and since this is Gaster, lots and lots of swearing! It’s uhh... pretty angsty. So!! Viewer/reader discretion is advised!!
> 
> There’s also a time skip of two to three days from the last chapter, so a heads up about that!
> 
> (You bet your asses I put the fifth anniversary soundtrack concerto on repeat while I was writing this-

Well these two weeks have been an absolute shitstorm.

Gaster barely restrained himself from tugging dangerously at his eye sockets and the holes in his rough palms, luckily opting instead to calm (or at least, desperately trying to) himself by clutching tightly on a cigarette packet while running his right phalanges across its smooth surface, the digits of the other lifting a cig to his grinding teeth, granting sweet, _sweet_ relief from everything that had so rightfully decided to go down the gutter in just a couple of business days.

He heaved out a frustrated, weary sigh as trails of smoke drifted from both his nasal ridge and manubrium, rising and ascending to join the Underground drought as streams of smouldering fumes, indistinguishable from the all the other detrimental vapours that thousands of the kingdom’s citizens have plagued themselves with.

Fuck, he was doing so well, too. When was the last time he laid his cracked sockets upon those cancer sticks? Or even a bottle of whiskey? When was the last time he nearly let all his control slip like a striped kid on a wet playground slide? When was the last time he actually gave into his LV and his slightly more...violent tendencies? When was the last time his broken SOUL shrieked and demanded for him to turn his assistants’ own SOULs blue and mercilessly throw them into the ionised, electrical depths of the CORE?

Not for a hot minute, that’s for damn sure.

Ugh, it was _always_ either an insidious addiction to meaningless but pernicious vices or a wretched dependence (practically slavery, really) on his own work and job, all because he spent most of his pitiful life on the latter and a regretful two or three years on the former. He was really going to shorten his lifespan to only a mere two centuries if he kept going like this, if he kept avoiding the actual problem as if it were death itself by doing everything wrong in all the wrong ways.

Or at least that is what Grillby keeps telling him. And what does the lieutenant know, anyway? Just because he was the first and only monster he could call a friend these days didn’t mean he could boss him around and tell him what he should and shouldn’t do like he was his father... well, if his father actually gave a shit about his wellbeing and wanted the best for him.

... okay, that was a horrible comparison, that fire elemental was nothing like his dear ol’ pa.

And it wasn’t like his SOUL was doing him any favours either, hollering and trying to tug him in five directions and dimensions all at once, all either in the general consensus of ‘murder that kid and anyone who tries to help them the moment you discover their location’ or ‘become even more sleep deprived by focusing on whatever is afoot with Ginger and the supposed rediscovery of corrupted magic’.

... if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, neither of them sounded that great for his mental health and sanity.

What was left of the both of them, anyway.

Taking another drag of a cigarette he hadn’t noticed he replaced he frowned and gazed down at the ocean of ever flowing and ever coursing lava, having half the mind to sit down and let his legs dangle off the heated cliffside just so he could feel anything other than impending dread for the future of monsterkind and the cloud of perpetual despondency and poignance that seemed to constantly hover over him since the exact instant he thought of pursuing an education in science almost a century ago.

...

Heh.

Has it really been that long since he had reluctantly whispered to a three-striped Grillby that he wanted to go against his family’s heritage? Soft but hopeful words underneath the shade of pine leaves deep in Snowdin Forest, in a location only the two of them knew? The one place where he could safely hide himself from his parents and didn’t have to fret about-

_Fuckfuckfuck- What the hell are you doing Wingdings-_

He abruptly (and very quickly) ended his increasingly traumatising line of thought before it could progress any further, figuratively and literally shaking his skull in an attempt to ward off any more trespassing memories from annoyingly showing themselves. He snuffed out the butt of the cigarette with a clench of his fist, not taking notice of the brief hiss of sparks seething into the pores of his bones as he began retreating back to the Lab with slow footfalls.

Why in Angel’s name was he reminiscing now?! Especially when he’s supposed to be scanning high and low for an absconded lab experiment or whatever the fuck else he could do to make himself useful?! Those were forlorn memories he had pushed far, _far_ into the back of his consciousness, stages in varying phases of his life he very much preferred to indefinitely leave in the past and never look back upon.

Every damn time he _did_ end up being roughly pulled back into his adolescence or early adulthood by some ‘episode’, as the captain had called it once or twice, he would... _shit_ , he couldn’t even describe it in detail. Most of his understanding on these ‘flashbacks’ were from others unfortunate enough to bear witness to his fits of dissociation, all usefully stating how ‘scary’ he could be when he wasn’t keeping himself in check. Well of course he’s fucking ‘scary’, he didn’t have to be painfully reminded of his numerous scars, cracks and other self-injuries (even if most of them had been for the benefit of the kingdom) for the nth time in four years to know that. All he knew/remembered was that a metaphorical switch from the very crevices of his SOUL would be, in a sense, ‘flipped on’, which would result in him entering a near unresponsive state where he no longer could register any words spoken to him or respond to, for example, someone snapping their fingers right in front of him.

Hmm... was that what happened with that history tome he was using to teach the child with a week or so ago? Back when that unruly skeleton didn’t disobey his every order as if bestowing upon him even more hardship and strife was their only priority in their life? ( ~~he deserved it, he deserved it all.)~~ The life that _he_ gave after two years of trial and error and decades worth of accomplishments? The pathetic, _paltry existence that he had given up Sans as a lab rat for-_

“Doctor?”

Oh thank the stars for that.

The scientist wheezed loudly through the nose he didn’t have as his phalanges scrambled to quickly pocket the empty cigarette packet (when did he finish the whole thing!?) into the pair of wrinkly black pants he hadn’t yet bothered to hurl into the washing machine for Angel knows how long, his head swerving almost painfully to meet an uneasy Pars’ skittish eyes. Stars, he had... he had nearly lost all his self-restrain there, and it was all because he simply just thought of Cherub, not even... n-not even...

_Shit._

He gratefully had enough awareness left to hold in the urge to blast the cat monster’s quivering form into a shimmering pile of hot, bootless ash, his twitching hands grasping at each other behind his back as he tried ( _huge_ emphasis on tried, he could quite literally feel his magic reserves being wasted and squandered on sweating perspiration when he could instead be using it to pinpoint that evasive kid and break every little bone- _stop it already!_ ) to make himself presentable and not look like he had just committed treason of the highest penalty or was scarily close to doing something incredibly dense, idiotic and improvised.

(There was really only one viable method to preventing him from going on an all-out killing spree that didn’t include getting off-the-rails drunk or any other deleterious iniquities, which harrowingly involved him demolishing a small but secluded area of the Underground by blowing the deepest, most gaping hole into the cave wall his six eager blasters could manage, essentially rendering him physically and magically incapable to act on his SOUL’s malevolent desires, even if he _wanted_ to.)

But he had to teleport as far as he could from any sort of settlement immediately if he was already starting to lose his ability of coherent thought. He can’t... he can’t think straight like this, not when the screams of his LV-addled SOUL were more blaring than they were just a minute ago, not when his Despair was coercing him to give in to every contemptible circumstance that was lobbed hazardously at his feet, not when his Indifference was pressuring him to let go of the fragile relationships he was yearning to maintain, not when his Hate was repeatedly squealing and intoning for him to summon his bones and kill, kill, _kill_ -

Gaster mentally slapped himself right before his muddled instincts could manifest his magic and the stinging sensation of ionisation could prickle at his boney arms, his frown deepening into an intense, troubled scowl. He took one hell of a shaky breath, shooting Pars a warning glare to not approach him as he tightly squeezed his fists until his hands threatened to draw dust. It was a poor attempt in preventing himself from summoning forth Pars’ trembling SOUL and adding ruthless butchery to his extensive list of transgressions, but it nonetheless did the job.

For the most part.

Even without initiating an ENCOUNTER his Intent, hostile and venomous, rolled off of him in fierce, ferocious waves. It choked and swallowed the two monsters in constrained but noxious malice, causing the assistant to take a terrified step back in the direction of the lab as he raised his arms defensively, subconsciously bracing and steeling himself by preparing a (futile) counterattack with his own arsenal of Bullet Patterns.

“Doctor? Doctor?! Are you alright?!” Pars’ usual smooth, mellow timbre was now more like a petrified squeak, not daring to make another move at the very possible chance of provoking the skeleton. The both of them already knew who would come out top if the situation escalated and they were to FIGHT, but the only plausible option the lanky monster had that didn’t require using his turn to retaliate was to flee, but Gaster, with his impeccable mastery over blue magic, would just instantly turn his SOUL blue and hurl him back with a vengeance.

He was entirely at the Royal Scientist’s Mercy.

“ _Yes_ ,” Gaster curtly replied, feigning nonchalance as he lied by the nonexistent skin of his teeth. Alright? Hah! What a _joke_. He hadn’t been ‘alright’ for a long, long time. Perhaps he had never truly been. Perhaps there always was that abiding feeling of sadness and self-loathing that seemed to permeate and drip from his every expression and demeanour. Perhaps those two short decades of relative bliss only existed and will ever exist to enhance his mental torment. ~~His personal pride had always hindered him from reaching out and seeking help. Or even acknowledge that he had a problem to begin with.~~ And from what he could see of the near future and beyond, he may never ever, _ever_ be ‘alright’, no matter how acclaimed and eminent he will be.

But no one needed to know that.

“ _What do you want, Pars?_ ”

“Is it safe for me to get-“

“ _No! just... stay where you are._ ”

“O-okay... so, you know Capital Hospital did a standard health checkup on every registered monster last year?” Pars asked with wary yellow eyes, his posture tense and steady for any attack that could be sent his way, his Intent guarding. He inhaled anxiously when he saw Gaster nod a few excruciating seconds later, his unfocused eyelights dim and waning. Good. At least the Doctor wasn’t staring at him with them completely diminished. _Stars_ , that never failed to give him the creeps. “We asked the higher ups in Capital Hospital if we could borrow their Magical Signature Database since we needed it for-“

“ _You detected residual magic in my office?_ ”

“It was quite... minimal; would have gone unnoticed if it weren’t for the new intern,” Pars stood a little bit straighter now that Gaster’s Intent wasn’t blazing at him like the signature heatwaves of Hotland, although his leer remained alert and vigilant. “The ionisation was fading exceedingly quickly so we had to complete the scan as fast as possible before the remnants disappeared entirely, and even then-“

“ _So who was it? Was it the child themself?_ ” Gaster intercepted before the assistant could monologue with anymore useless drat, his voice however grating and raspy conveyed enough of his rapidly dwindling Patience as his signing became more erratic, unintelligible if it weren’t for Pars’ years of working with the Royal Scientist.

“No, but I doubt you’d like the answer. We were pretty shocked too-“

“ ** _So who the fuck was it?!_** ” He couldn’t bother with signing his response by this point, his unruffled facade shattering wholly as his arm unconsciously outstretched towards the cowering assistant. His phalanges flexed and _squeezed_ , pulling onto the invisible threads of magic until a resounding ping resonated between the two of them, the cat monster yelping in surprise and pain as he felt his SOUL try to flout against Gaster’s hold only for his body to be suddenly lifted into the air, his now blue SOUL giving in and forcefully hauling him to essentially kneel at the skeleton’s shoes.

“Your son! I-it was your son, Doctor! Please- p-please spare me...” Pars beseeched through brimming tears, his cadence meek and compliant as his head bowed submissively. He could barely move his limbs, his sense of gravity increased hundredfold. It felt as if a ton worth of dumbbells and weights were weighing down on him, his ankles shackled to a ball and chain. The assistant was essentially rendered to a rag doll, compelled to be at Gaster’s every whim, specifically a very unstable, spontaneous Gaster who was breathing deeply and raggedly above him, fighting an internal battle Pars could only Hope he would win.

_... the fuck?_

Gaster’s SOUL immediately started to thump and pound angrily in his ribcage, whispering and mumbling to him the hundreds of ways he could end the assistant’s life this very instant, purring so sickly the hundreds of techniques he could use to severely punish Sans for his misdemeanour, soughing so ‘innocuously’ the thousands of methods he could crush Cherub’s skull beneath his feet and have them come back with a well-placed SAVE, only for Gaster to blast and kill them again, and again, and _again_ -

With a pained grunt and gasp Gaster released his squashing grasp on Pars’ SOUL, the assistant gulping in winded but greedy breaths as he scrambled to get away from the skeleton as fast as his slim legs would allow, his eyes glossing over in pure fear. The Royal Scientist in turn glanced at Pars’ trembling form, his left hand clutching at his right arm in a poor endeavour to restrain his SOUL’s craving to gather more LOVE.

Gritting his teeth, Gaster somehow made up his mind through the haze of his jumbled consciousness and took one final glimpse at the assistant already beginning to retreat into the lab, mouthing and signing a quick “ _Sorry_ ,” with his normal pair of hands before allowing the Void to envelop and consume his vision. His movements were practically robotic as he guided himself to a set of coordinates he’s been more to often that he would like to admit, his SOUL continuing to mutter demented promises even through the world between worlds.

  
The Void had always been a double-edged sword to him. A realm of unknown origin and unpredictable circumstances that had only procured vague, half-finished theories from both himself and his predecessors. A place that he had confirmed only a few short years ago through Asriel’s reign as Flowey was controlled and manipulated by someone with an abnormally high level of Determination, that his along with Sans’ ability to use the Void as a means of instant transportation was only a small piece of the puzzle. He had clung onto the blunt, ominous warning he was given more than half a century ago like a lifeline, continuously staying at the forefront of his mind every time he crossed the threshold between worlds, a solemn reminder to always do his calculations prior to teleporting and to never stray off the chosen path.

In a flash of purple Gaster fell out the Void without much grace (usually he would nail the landing), his knees nearly buckling under his shuddering legs as he took long, steadying strides to prevent himself from falling onto the ever-thick blanket of snow and retching the breakfast he didn’t have. He fisted the cotton fabric of his turtleneck, his distals twiddling with the fibre right above where his SOUL laid hovering and wobbling. 

Stars, never has the urge to rip it out of his scarred ribcage ever been this enticing. ~~Perhaps he should just do it and get it over with, wouldn’t things be so much easier that way?~~ He has had moments (and this was certainly one of them) where he wished to be like the child, SOUL-less and encumbered by emotions, bonds and attachments that all just seemed to only hurt in the end, regardless of what he did or didn’t do, of what he did and didn’t believe.

~~If he had known that sooner, had known what the future lied for the both of them, would he still have tried to woo her? Would he have still tried pursuing his long-life dream of becoming the Dreemurr Kingdom’s Royal Scientist? Would he have tried _at all?_~~

He tiredly opened his sockets and let his eyelights flit between one heap of blackened, charred wood to the next, his wandering yet scattered scrutinisation taking him through the derelict cottage he had all but destroyed in the cluttered fog that was his own uncontrollable rage and anguish... _fuck_ , how long ago was it now? Was it five months or five years? Or did it not matter? The deed was done, he supposed, and his father’s cursed dust would have long been swept by the winter wind of the deeper woodlands even if he had blasted the property just an hour prior, forever forgotten except by the one monster who wanted to the most.

At least it put his mind off it all.

Gaster dazedly watched as glistening snowflakes fell from the Underground ceiling, cascading and drifting downwards in regular batches of white and grey until they reached his opened and stretched-out palm, some either falling straight through the perfect circle that was the gaping hole in his hand while others were stopped in their surging tracks by descending upon and dissolving into his porcelain-like phalanges, the same digits that were roughened and slightly chipped over the decades of self-negligence and experiments.

He carried on like this for a few more minutes (truthfully it felt more like days, the only noise he could hear being the wails of his degenerate Resonance and the howls of wind meant for another), just letting himself naturally simmer down _without_ having to create another huge pit into the Underground as he walked among his reclusive pa’s old ‘summer home’, inspecting every nook and crevice of damage he had done until the belligerent vows of his SOUL were nothing more but mere harmless murmurs, his now clearer thoughts finally (and thankfully) not only about committing coldhearted slaughter on children and coworkers, but also pertaining to whatever the hell he’s meant to do with the newly acquired knowledge that his son was the one who helped Cherub escape.

How did he even...?

...

Oh.

Oh _shit_.

...

That fucking kid...!

* * *

Once Gaster knew he wouldn’t immediately snap at the sight of a certain stocky skeleton he took another quick blip from the deeper, unexplored depths of the forest to the quaint but bustling town of Snowdin, the uppermost layer of reflective snow that was used for a snowball fight no more than a mere couple of hours ago churning and crunching beneath his leather shoes. He reluctantly halted just before he reached the porch of the two-storey house, craning his cervical vertebrae as he squinted to see if anyone-

Ah.

There he was.

Lackadaisically sitting on the porch was the lazy younger skeleton himself, his gloved hands resting in the pockets of his baby blue hoodie as an electrical engineering manual levitated just in front of him, the source of its blue glow being the bright cyan shine emitting from his left eye socket, his grin the most relaxed he’s seen in months.

He looked so... peaceful.

Well, he _did_ until he looked up and promptly locked eye sockets with the taller skeleton a few seconds after, his entire mien changing in a split instant as his easygoing smile dropped entirely. His eyelights scanned, dimmed and flickered at the realisation of who exactly was standing in front of him, his control over the book loosening until it plopped page-first onto the ice-ladened dirt. Gaster cringed at the display, automatically manifesting a pair of disembodied hands to pick it up and place it next to the frozen child, whose fluttering pinpoints were still burning searing holes through his own; but even through Sans’ superficially panicked reaction Gaster could _just_ make out the knowing glint in his expression, how the initial shock on his countenance had been so easily and swiftly replaced by urbane resignation and... smug defiance...?  
  


_Just what type of game was he playing at?_

“how did-“

” ** _Teleportation leaves residual void magic, as little as it may be. Surely you would have remembered such crucial information if you weren’t in such a rush to get the child out,”_** He deliberately hissed out, not missing how the smaller skeleton had visibly slumped at his words, the two hands in his pockets gripping a little harder on the fabric. “ _ **My assistants collated the signature they collected in my office with the database from the capital’s local hospital; it matched with yours perfectly... Sans, I thought you’d know better than this.**_ ”

“... I don’t regret it.”

“ _ **I know you don’t. But why did you do it?**_ ”

“Because I had to.”

The Royal Scientist bit in the urge to growl and bare his teeth, his SOUL already beginning to flare up in annoyance in his ribcage. “ _ **Sans, this is not the time to be needlessly vague. How much do you know of the child?**_ ”

“Enough to know that they shouldn’t be there. Are we done yet?”

“ ** _Sans_**.”

Sans perked a brow but otherwise remained aloof and nonchalant. “that’s my name.”

“ _ **I am being gravely serious here, son, and I do not appreciate your offhanded, blasé attitude. Just... answer the questions and I will let you go**_ _ **’**_ ,” Gaster couldn’t help but start fiddling with his turtleneck once more (his accidental pun also didn’t go unnoticed, especially by the smaller skeleton who couldn’t help but snort), a nervous habit that Sans, being the attentive and observing monster he was, would have positively noticed a long time ago. “ ** _What do you know of them? How much of our conversation did you eavesdrop? And where did you take them?_** ”

“Like I said, an adequate amount,” The much shorter of the two riposted, his grin stretching nearly sardonically, knowing full well he had dodged two questions altogether. “Or should I further elaborate and supplement to equal your expansive vocabulary? Why should I tell ya, anyway? Shouldn’t you, Royal Scientist and guiding Hope to all monsters, have already figured it out by now? Shouldn’t you be out there breaking the Barrier and shouldering everyone’s burdens or some fake PR crap like that? Don’t you have better things to do than to ruin Paps’ and I well deserved holiday with your presence?”

“ _ **Sans Serif!**_ ”

“ ** W h a t.**”

Gaster’s assertive stance faltered for a moment, his cracked sockets widening fractionally at the two abyssal vacuums that were staring him down so... audaciously, (he could count with the phalanges of his two attached hands how many times Sans had stood up for himself in or out of the lab, his own glares being more than enough to shut down his eldest’s retorts before they even left his mouth) the owner of said voids’ smile now downturned into a bold snarl, Patience and Justice flickering in and out of existence in his left socket.

It was a portent daring for him to come any closer, virtually challenging him to see if he had the proverbial guts to turn his own son’s SOUL blue (Angel knows they’ve done it on each other on more than a few ‘incidental’ occasions) or conjugate a blaster to intimidate him. The two stood in silence for a few twitchy seconds, (but to the both of them it felt like hours) both intently scrutinising each other’s every jerk and breath to predict who would make the first move.

He took a second to silently gaze at his numbing surroundings, the little frost-swept town his parents had spent their first few decades going through the motions in, completely oblivious to the two skeletons virtually sizing each other up, unaware of the calculative, nearly protective lour that the smaller of the two was sending to his father. He had some memories spent in this place, all ranging from the okay to the downright horrible, all separate and decades apart, but all significant and a piece of what made Gaster ‘Gaster’, as it were. The first time being during his four-striped years and the last time being around a couple of months ago, when he had went to pick up some supplies for the Lab and stayed the night.

  
(In the back of Gaster’s mind he pondered if Grillby, Fuku or even his youngest were watching him through the curtains. But surely his old friend would have interrupted the two by now, right? The fire elemental _knew_ how grisly Gaster was at arguments or any other types of confrontations, even if it may seemed that it was all he did with how... ugh, combustible he has been these past few years.)

“ ** _These are simple questions that require only one scanty little word, perfect for you and your indolence,_** ” He growled out after his moment of rumination, ignoring his SOUL’s implication to chastise with more than just a few choice words. “ _ **Why must you make it so difficult!?**_ ”

“I don’t know. Why did you yank my SOUL out without my consent and injected Determination into it, even when you have already tested it on yourself and nearly melted into one goopy puddle in the process?” Sans hurled back with as much fervour, but even then he still looked (relatively to Gaster, anyway) composed, having not made a single move since they first exchanged glances. “Why did you train me and my magic to near death even after I begged you, multiple times, to spare me? Why did you drink until you were so intoxicated that you couldn’t safely walk home without uncle Grillbz’s help? Why do you think you can go ‘bout creating something you shouldn’t have and expect them to not rebel eventually? They were scared of you, as am I, so I did something ‘bout it. What else can I say?”

  
Gaster stood rigid still at this son’s words, his foregoing temper dissipating as soon as it came. _Why_ had he done all that? Why had he chose to abandon the morals he had lived by since the second he was allowed to comfortably live by himself? Why had he carried out his earliest Determination experiments on his son, of all monsters? Surely there must have been a logical reason, right? Surely his actions were justified in the end, even if it had hurt people in the process? Perhaps he had wanted to make Sans stronger? (Which didn’t sound too improbable considering what had happened before he started testing and using Determination) But why would that matter if his son was now scared witless at even the thought of him? Why would _anything_ matter when the last two monsters that were his world and more did not care for him, or at least as much as he did with them?

Gaster bit the lip he didn’t have in frustration and guilt, his gaze askance as he had the temerity to look shameful. “I’m-“

“Don’t... don’t apologise,”  Sans interrupted with scrunched up brows, gritted teeth and a wavering scowl that was fighting to stay on his visage, not daring to make direct eye contact with the scientist himself. “They would all be empty words coming from you. I... wouldn’t be able to forgive you, anyway. ‘m not like Paps... or mum.”  
  


The mere mention of her felt like another million swords and spears being pierced into his body and his very SOUL, felt like being once again lobbed into the deep, open ocean with no ability to swim back up, compelling him to lament and keen in sadness for all eternity, wishing that he could drown, wishing that the watery depths of the deep blue sea could swallow him whole. But he had to keep a straight face, regardless of how much he wanted to teleport back into his room and bawl in peace.

“ ** _I... understand._** ”

Sans finally tore his sockets to look at him, and Gaster hoped that his son didn’t see how close he was to breaking.  “Then why are you still here? You have someone to find, don’t ya?”

  
He _did_ , and he was certainly going to whenever this disastrous attempt of a normal conversation ceased. But there _was_ objectively a notably larger issue the kingdom was currently facing that he had chosen to (mostly) neglect since his phone call with Gerson, one that he wasn’t too certain if he could be of much assistance in. Should he explain the Ginger situation to Sans? Or should he keep this on the down-low so no gossip would spread and there wouldn’t be the chance of a mass panic? Although... Sans was not one for tittle-tattle, he knew that, and he had a perceptive mind when it came to it. Would it hurt if he told him just a little...?

“ ** _It’s not just the child anymore. There is something... else that is running amok. Something that I do not have any knowledge on. Something-_** “

“Life threatening. That’s all you had to say, pops. And ‘m assuming you’re all freaking out ‘cause of it right now?”

“ ** _To put it in simple terms, yes. It is a subject only the captain has dipped their toes in._** ”

“Captain Gerson? That cool turtle guy that sometimes tells War stories back in the Capital Library? Is the danger as old as he is? Is it... human related?”

“ _ **I do not know,**_ ” Gaster was, admittedly, exasperated that he couldn’t answer many of his son’s questions, that he was at a lost as much as he was. “ ** _I had given the task of ascertaining whether or not such a far-fetched albeit conceivable claim holds some truth to him and the rest of the Guard -the individuals who are still working, at least- but they haven’t yet located Ginger’s location-_** “

“Isn’t he one of your assistants? What does he have to do with-“ Sans’ strained grin tightened as a sudden realisation came over him, his sockets narrowing at his father as the pinpoints of light within them sharpened with suspicion and distrust. “wait a sec... why are you telling me all this? I won’t help you, pops, and I ain’t gonna even if you get on your knees right now and plead with all your SOUL, you get that, right? You’re only wasting your breath being here.”

“ ** _Because I trust your judgement. You see and analyse details other monsters overlook. You see the forest for its trees and can be critical when need be. Your opinions and ideas remain your own even when others try to reprimand you for it. And you’re sharp in not only your wit, believe or not._** “ _And because this is the first real conversation we had in months, years even. Can you truly blame me for wanting it to last a little while longer? Even only for just a second more?_

But Gaster could not find it in himself to utter those last few sentences, no matter how much he and the last few virtuous, contrite shreds of his corrupted SOUL urgently wanted him to. He just... couldn’t. Perhaps one day in the future he will, when he feels more deserving of both his sons’ Kindness and Mercy, when he feels that he himself deserves another chance, when he could fully let go of his past and every accursed thing that happened to him and smile instead of frown. 

“so you’re saying you just wanna have a ‘pleasant’ chat with a smaller, younger and more handsome version of yourself?”  Sans’ grin was now back in full-force, shit-eating and all. Gaster recognised this as him trying to lighten the mood between them and irritatingly, it was kind of working. 

But more handsome..?

He wasn’t so sure about that.

  
The younger skeleton cleared his nonexistent throat when the older gave no answer (he was, quite frankly, disappointed that Gaster hadn’t even made a face), his beam fading back into one of a more neural mood.  “so, uhh... what’s going on with your assistant?”

” _ **He culminated thousands worth of EXP in one night and brusquely killed the child while I was guiding them through an ENCOUNTER. It forced them to LOAD and rewind time to approximately an hour back, which upon doing so caused two timeline anomalies to simultaneously occur. One being the absence of Ginger in the laboratory and the second being Grillby calling to inform me of your near catatonic condition. I assume you know the rest?**_ ”

Sans blinked once, then twice, not anticipating such a straightforward answer coming from someone like his father, a monster notoriously known for being purposely and purposefully vague.  “ok... I uh, kinda was expecting more beating around the bush there but... heh. kinda a coincidence, though.”

“A coincidence?”

“yep. kinda convenient for all that to happen just as you introduced and explained their magic to ‘em, don’t ya think? It could’ve happened a day earlier when they still had no idea what their abilities were. it could’ve even happened a week afterwards. ‘t’s just... a little uncanny for your assistant to turn at that very moment... especially considering I was shortcutting to Fuku’s diner around that time, too,”  Sans’ grin stuttered momentarily, his eyelights ogling at the ground as his (untied) sneakers absentmindedly nudged the snow.  “And you know what’s even more convenient, pops?”

“... **_Grillby, the lieutenant of the Guard and a significant member of the Militia, a powerful monster who could be a deterrent for any potential threats to the kingdom,_** ” The more Gaster mused the more the horror dawn on him, his eyelights shrinking in terror. There had been someone (or something) that was meticulously planning this since the beginning, and everyone, including him, had been playing right into their hands. “ ** _Who just happened have a meeting at the Dreemurr Castle when it was, conveniently, postponed due to your antecedent... condition. And it was when he was only a day away from_** ** _taking a two week holiday to Snowdin, as well..._** ”

  
“Ash-actly.”

Gaster blinked in surprise and bemusement, his mouth agape... until his entire expression shifted into one of disgruntled, resentful fury, an aggrieved but halfhearted sneer appearing on his cracked face. “ _ **That’s horrendous, even for you.**_ ”

“Can’t win em’ all, pops. But let’s say-“   
  


“ _ **No. More. Puns. Not when we have just found out that there is someone out there that is stalking and monitoring every choice we make! They could be here, right now, at this very moment, listening into our very personal discussion and jotting it down on some notebook or-**_ “

”Has anyone seen Arfer?!”

The two skeletons swerved their skulls to the source of the panicked howl, the cadence shrill and hoarse from crying out to anyone who would listen. Squinting, Gaster saw that it was a female guard from the Snowdin canine unit who was running around the town in a panic, her iron armour bouncing and simmering beneath her black robes as she frantically asked any passerby she came across. And eventually she had inevitably approached them, the Hope on her face dwindling fast but still considerably evident in her features. She glanced at Sans and then him, a little gasp escaping from her snout as she did so.

”You are the Royal Scientist, yes?”

” _Correct. And I assume you are here to ask us of this ‘Arfer’ individual?_ ”  
  


The dog monster gave a swift bow and salute, the amour on her iron-cladded shoulder blades clanking against her chest piece, remaining professional even in her distress. “Yes, sir. I believe you may know him as RG 05 of the Hotland unit. He was supposed to come home an hour or so ago but has still yet to arrive. Have you, perhaps, seen him guarding the entrance to Hotland, near where your laboratory is?”

” _Unfortunately, no. But I could do a quick sweep of the area, if you’d like._ ”

”Oh yes, please!” Relief rolled off her form in waves, her face visibly relaxing at the offer underneath her hood. “I would be in your debt! But I must warn you, Doctor, he hasn’t been himsmelf for a while now, always coming home smelling like... I can’t quite put it into words, really, but I know that it isn’t his natural scent, definitely not! So _please_ take caution once you do find him, and maybe do a health check on him while you’re at it?”

Gaster... wasn’t that type of doctor, but he solemnly nodded anyway, bowing his head politely when the dog monster expressed her thanks once more. And with one final glimpse at a concerned Sans (who was attempting to comfort the guard with shitty dog puns, no less. Does his nerve know no bounds?) and a quick calculation of how long and how far he needed to traverse the Void for, he jumped into the unknown once again, already having an idea on what could be happening to this ‘Arfer’ character.

And if his hypothesis was in any way true, he could only cling onto the slim Hope that the Underground will ever be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn I thought this was gonna be a short chapter but here we are at 6,500 words rofl-
> 
> I’ll check for grammar errors laterrrrr
> 
> Oh if anyone’s curious the cottage Gaster destroyed is indeed the mysterious house you seen in Snowdin Forest!


	20. *Smells like teen spirit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara has a revelation.
> 
> (And Coronet doesn’t make the best choices.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy remember when i said this was gonna be 5,000 words? :))
> 
> WELP! It’s at 9,000 instead! But I guess you could call it a gift for not posting a chapter in almost two months so you’re welcome-
> 
> Anyways, i am (obviously) back, but i still cannot say if i will be able to return to posting chapters weekly as the next few ones that ive planned are not gonna vary too much from this one in terms of uhh... pages, heh. Buttt until then you can have this Goliath :))

Chara was getting suspicious.

The long days passed with... relative smoothness, but that was more than enough to get their paranoia going, enough to allow all their worries, fears and unease creep into their mind like little pestering, festering parasites. They had been expecting since the day (night?) they stepped into the Ruins that the scientist would come teleporting in with those floating dragon skulls of his, that he would snatch Ve- _Coronet_ by the cervical vertebrae to haul them back into the laboratory and do whatever that would stop them from escaping again. (they did not want nor let their perturbed imagination wander too far into the obscure, who knew what that LOVE-addled skeleton could do with all those equipment he had? Or with his blue magic alone?)

And yet... nothing happened. At least nothing that would warrant Chara’s anxiety. They had listened and checked for any flicker of the scientist’s magic, for any sign that would he be prowling and stalking the Ruins whilst planing his first move. They had repeatedly experimented on how far away they could travel/float from Coronet, how far they could strain and tighten the connection they shared. And, unsurprisingly, it wasn’t more than a couple of metres. They had tried to trek further, had tried to see if they could glide from one end of moth- _the Queen’s_ cottage to the other without the child‘s assistance (not like they had any knowledge on what Chara was doing, anyway), but it only ever ended in agonising pain on both their parts (they had given Coronet a terribly vague and ambiguous answer when they had nearly collapsed the first time, thankfully albeit very reluctantly accepting their improvised excuse that they were just attempting ‘to test their limit’) and the risk of severing their link entirely.

And the spirit did not want to consider what would happen then.

In other words, progress was... slow. Extremely slow. And they weren’t sure if they could afford wasting any more precious time loitering and lazing about in the Ruins with no plan to fall back to. They and Coronet had already argued one too many times on what they should and shouldn’t do once they felt prepared and ready to move on, but there was always that one blaring problem that the two faced whenever they quarrelled: They had no idea when and if they were ever going to be ‘prepared’ _at all_. The skeleton seemed perfectly fine with spending the rest of their little life with the Queen, seemed perfectly fine with just... circumventing and running away from their problems forever. They would even tolerate being of two minds in one body if they could feel safe and didn’t have the need to sleep with one eye open. (Which, considering their lack of a right eye, essentially meant no sleep at all if their life depended on it)

They had also expressed their curiosity and interest in Toriel, telling them through their connected thoughts how different she was from Gaster. How much more caring and motherly she was compared to the aloof, mysterious aura that permeated around the skeleton whenever he went.Of course, Chara knew all that. Toriel was the second of many friendly faces they met when they first fell into the world of monsters, her simper kind and affectionate even when she only just barely introduced herself to the human.

They admired the Queen for her tenacity and sternness, somehow remaining as caring as she always was even when they had been rowdy and impish from their escapades. She had never kneeled down and allowed others to stomp and tramp over her. She more often than not had a plan ready for any occasion. (They had never met someone who was such a meticulous and thoughtful planner. When Toriel had asked them when their birthday was and they replied with a noncommittal shrug and a pensive, askance frown, the boss monster took it upon herself to make up for all their lost birthday parties and held the best soirée they had ever been in. She had thankfully taken in account their introverted nature, deciding to instead invite only a few selected guests. In total there were only eight monsters and one bemused but appreciative human, perfect for someone who didn’t know what the word ‘party’ meant; that night only got even better when Toriel came out of the kitchen with the ever amazing chocolate pie. Yum.)

And to add to all that, she was a pun lover.

~~Toriel was just simply everything they wished their biological mother was.~~

But Coronet was...afraid. They did not want to show it, however, and they were plenty successful in putting up a straight face for the motherly monarch and the squeamish blonde human. (Chara... did not know what to think of the seventh Fallen. He was simply part of the race they had grew to hate so vehemently, part of the same species their village cult suppurated and were still suppurating in, if those hooded figures that pushed the human into the Underground were who they thought they were) But they could not hide it from Chara, could not conceal what they were thinking or what they feeling. And as much as they had tried convincing Coronet and even themself of their inability of true emotion, it was plain to see that they were feeling... something.

It was strange and at times really, really annoying. They could feel happiness, sadness, surprise, all that mushy crap. They may not have been as... potent as one with a SOUL would feel and was instead more like an distant echo. And perhaps they took more things in stride than was strictly normal and didn’t really react too much towards their own death. It was still, in the end, enough to be genuine and _real_. They clearly felt them and so did Chara through their nexus, and it all reminded them all too much of when their SOUL was absorbed by Asriel all those centuries ago. 

( ~~ _Don’t think about him don’t think about him **Ḑ̵̢̧̯̯͓̥͙̝͎̟̲̎̓̂͒O̸̯̖̜͚͙͂̎͒̆̈́̅̐͆̏͝Ṉ̵̛̖̜̗͔̠́̅̀͋̐̕͜͝ͅͅ’̴̰͎͌̌͊̃͗̈́̎͆̉̕T̸̩͔̒͗̑̇̄̌͒́̚** -_~~)

Learning to separate and sectionalise two different personalities was, quite frankly, a pain in their ghostly rear. Coronet’s thoughts were almost... overpowering, so loud and somehow so quiet at the same time. It overloaded Chara’s own sense of contemplation and reasoning. They could feel and hear what they thought of the world around them, what they thought of Toriel, Ludwig and every other denizen of the Ruins. They had tried to shut it all out when it had become too much, feeling and pulling along the pulsating thread for some kind of relief and solace, but it seemed that as long as the skeleton had not the faintest idea on how to block their own thoughts as the once-human did with them they would just have to grind their teeth and hold in their frustrations.

And if they were to actually _teach_ Coronet how to control and manipulate their fibril it could cause more problems than solve them. What if they learn how to breach them and all their memories? Chara knew they weren’t dumb (quite the opposite, really) and it wouldn’t be long until they figured out who they were if enough hints were thrown onto their face. And... if they had to be honest, they did not _want_ their identity to be discovered. They did not _want_ to be affiliated to what was now a sob story for striped and adults alike. They did not _want_ to relive the years they spent with the king and queen of monsters. They did not _want_ to think of the prince who had betrayed them so... so...

Chara wiped the tears threatening to fall with a transparent sleeve, their teeth gritting and brows scrunching despite their best efforts to remain unexpressive and austere. (And they were not going to even begin wasting time musing over how the dead could cry. The answer was probably magic anyway.) 

(Even against their own wishes they still couldn’t help but speculate on their ‘brother’’s whereabouts. Was he training under their father’s patient guidance? Was he enjoying their mother’s baking?... was he happy without them? Was he better off without the no-good, rebellious, pathetic human child who ultimately failed to accomplish what was expected of them? Was he...)

Speaking of magic, Coronet had been making decent progress on using their SAVES. With enough advice and demonstrations, they’ve been able a summon a SAVE point with experienced ease as of late. (they only took control of Coronet’s body two more times since the first instance. The skeleton may had become a little... livid afterwards but how else were they going to show how to properly use red magic? Pop out as an apparition in front of them and LOAD a SAVE? Please. ) While the stars could be manifested by the feeling of Determination and drive coursing through one’s literal or proverbial veins, it was a lot easier to simply concentrate your will on the thought of harnessing the reins of time through the snap of a finger.

Chara only ever gained this knowledge from their own experimentation of LOADs and RESETs when they were still alive. They did not use it often, however, and in fear of anyone remembering a previous timeline ~~and their...mishaps~~ they used it as fractionally as possible. They had no real use of it, really. Why would they? They, for the most part, were content with the life they lead back then. They had loving parents, a naive, ~~gullible~~ caring brother and an environment they felt safe in. It was only in themself they felt inadequate and lacking.

But Coronet was not restricted to a single colour as a human mage (they once heard them being called magicians once. Where exactly, they no longer could recall) would be, where they would have red magic and red magic alone, they instead also the potential of calling forth their own set of “Giant floating skull-things”, as they would say every now and again, and (if they were at all like the scientist or even, quite possibly, Sans) the affinity to summon bones. Now progress on that has been... less than stellar.

Magic, as far as Chara knew, was at its core all the same, a fundamental subatomic particle that only interacted and intermingled through the influence of sentience and consciousness. In the end there really wasn’t too much of a difference between monster and human magic, but since the dawn of the two races mages have only been able to master the magic of their SOUL colour, and not much else. It was never known why, and not many have bothered to look into it. (With the few who did inevitably and invariably coming up empty.) To most, it did not matter anyway. Why would it when mages were always going to come up top when in an ENCOUNTER with a monster? Why would it when one human SOUL was the equivalent of thousands of monster ones? It was always universally understood that humans were inherently the most powerful, the rulers of the Earth, and that monsters could not and would not stand a chance lest they manage to reap a human SOUL for themselves.

Intent was the basis of all magic, and if there was a will there was a way. While tugging on someone’s SOUL to initiate an ENCOUNTER could be done without as much as a second thought, fire magic on the other hand required a lot more precision and thought put into it, depending on the skill of the caster. And the entirety of Chara’s prowess was born of trial and error, not by lessons taught by specialised teachers in a school cooped up underneath a huge mountain. (They revealed their identity as a mage to the Dreemurrs only once. A dozen RESETs ago when they didn’t fully understand the weight behind their words, when all they knew was the vehement hate they felt humanity and the uncertainty of their mortality... It did not end well.)

Then what was the difference? What did Coronet have to do in order for them to manifest the rest of their magic? What was it that made white magic any different from blue or purple? Chara was no scientist, and the books they’ve read when Underground never truly elaborated on the how of monster specific magic, only the what. (In retrospect, they were totally made for striped children, weren’t they?) Even when they had profusely asked Asgore or Toriel their answers were kept brief and uninformative, deliberately vague to keep them from becoming too curious and running the risk of harming themself.

Well, that’s what they thought, anyway.

_What?_

Chara blinked out of their stupor, their crimson eye widening as they stared down at a pacing Coronet. Their sharp, bright eyelight was leering directly at them, somehow sensing Chara’s presence despite their stringent Intent to remain invisible. There were dark bags beginning to form from beneath their socket (magic sure worked in mysterious ways), their recent lack of sleep making them look much wearier than usual.

Outside the cottage they heard the blathers of Toriel and the new human, idly raking the fallen leaves of gathering by the tree. It was only a few hours ago when Toriel had told the both of them that she had to return to the Dreemurr castle soon (By dinner, to be precise), and now that she had been recrowned as Queen and her duties bequeathed back to her she no longer could just hide herself away for another couple of centuries.

Even though judging by her forlorn, wistful expression, she wasn’t too happy with such a decision.

But sacrifices had to be made.

*Hmm?

_You just said something about... monster magic and the Queen? That was all I could make out._

Chara pursed their lips and looked away from their companion, gaze settling on the pair chatting away outside. Damn it, some of their thoughts must have accidentally leaked through the connection. They... really had to be more careful.

*I’m just... pondering the possibilities on how you could perform your magic properly.

_Aren’t I already? I’ve been SAVING every few hours like you’ve told me to._

*Yes, but don’t you remember when you summoned that femur of yours? That wasn’t red magic.

Chara heard them shift uncomfortably, and the ghost in turn floated a little further away from them, nearly phasing through the cottage’s brick walls. It wouldn’t hurt if they tried to listen in to their mother’s conversation, right? It must have been an riveting one if Ludwig’s face seemed to blanch to the colour of the monster fidgeting next to them.

_How could I forget being scared out of my wits by a crazed scientist? I acted out of instinct and impulse, and unless you can force me into a corner I doubt I’ll be able to replicate that._

*I could, but for the sake of good graces I won’t.

There was a flicker of irritation that pulsed through the connection, a tug that didn’t go unnoticed as Chara responded with a frown of their own.

_Yeah, yeah. I already understand how little of my life I apparently control. What else is new?_

*Your attitude. Now, would you think Toriel would answer if you asked her about monster magic? You are physically -and more than a little mentally- a child, and she absolutely adores children. Perhaps a set of cute puppy eyes would be enough for her to relent.

_Well too bad I have only one eye, then._

Same. But that never stopped Chara from giving that method a shot whenever they wanted something, like chocolate cinnamon rolls or the newest edition of the Monster and the Knight. It worked once... or twice.

Oh, who were they kidding? Their brother was always the more adorable of the two, and the one who got everything he wanted with a teary pout.

*We can only try. There’s only so much I can teach you.

_Fine. How did you get to know this much, anyway? Is there some sort of magic class up in the Surface?_

*Irrelevant. Why don’t you give it another try while I try to eavesdrop? That human is looking particularly apprehensive and I want to know why.

Chara narrowed their eye at Ludwig, their face so close to the window that it would be pressing against it if it weren’t for their... condition, not that it made much of a difference. It wasn’t like Coronet wasn’t _invited_ to join them when Toriel had asked, but little _I-want-to-be-alone-and-brood-melodramatically_ wasn’t in the mood to do a little bonding, even after the spirit had imploringly insisted otherwise.

They turned to watch them move to the window as well, their (unfortunately) corporeal skull and hands squished into the immaculate glass. They almost looked.... cute, if a reanimated decayed corpse could even be that.

_You’re acting like you’re not human yourself, you know._

*How many times do I have to...! Eugh, It doesn’t matter what he is! I simply do not trust him.

_What about the Queen, then? Do you trust her?_

*More than I do with Ludwig.

A disbelieving scoff rung off in their head, betraying the skeleton’s indifferent expression. They too, were watching the pair, eyebrows (bonebrows?) gradually furrowing. Through their bond Chara felt them thinking of the easy conversation that seemed to flow between Toriel and the human, wondering how the Queen could be so comfortable with someone she knew for a little more than half a week.

Oh boy, the skeleton did not know even a quarter the story. Toriel treated them as if they were her own child two weeks into their fall into the Underground. They thought that it was kind of weird and questionable at first, considering their history with adults not being the most... heartwarming, but it did not take them long to start calling her mother, and Asgore, father.

(Chara smothered in their jealously the best they could. Toriel just had that type of soft personality, they knew that. It was in most monsters’ nature to be welcoming and wholesome, so much unlike their own species who, after all, did not require Love, Hope and Compassion to live and function.)

Monsters do be like that sometimes.

... _You’re totally suspicious of him only because of his race!_

*What? That’s not...

Chara stopped short in their retort, carefully thinking over Coronet’s words. (Or should they call it thought projections...?) It was true that they legitimately hated- and still hated- their own people, but should they apply this mentality to a human they never met even once? To a being who had, thus far, not shown an ounce of ill-will towards neither Toriel and the denizens for the Ruins? He was obviously from that far-off city and not some poor victim of Ebott’s Umbra, he may not even be aware that there was a village of people living next to the mountain at all.

But... what if there was the off-chance that he was hiding something... malignant? What if his SOUL was like... pestilence to a monster, or something? There must have been some sort of virulent reason why the cult threw him down here, right?

So it was fair for them to be a little wary, at the very least. He may not have done anything devious just yet but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t sometime in the future. They’d just have to keep a close eye on him, monitor his behaviour when interacting with monsters. And if their suspicions prove to be correct, then...

Well, let’s just say it won’t end too well for him.

*Alright! Maybe I’m a little biased. But in my defence I actually know Toriel, are you assuming that every human from the Surface know each other? Are you implying that I know the entire human population of 7.5 billion? That we all are telepathically connected to each other through a brain-link and perpetually transmit each other’s thoughts?

(In truth Chara had not the slightest idea on what the current population was. 8 billion? 20 billion? There could be only millions left for all they knew! They had heard something about civil unrest in a number of settlements from the more... travelled residents of their village, so perhaps they could convince Coronet to ask the human about his surface life?)

_N-no!..._

...

....

_Wait..._

Chara watched on in amusement as Coronet’s face morphed from one of confusion, realisation and then horror. (all the while their face continued to press against the window) They stared at Ludwig with a new sense of profound fear, tiny beads of aubergine sweat (Uh...??) forming by their crown.

_You’re not... telling him that I’m watching them like a creep, right...?_

Chara grinned devilishly at their ignorance, arms giddily crossing. They were considering how far they could take this, of what could they get away with that wouldn’t end up with Toriel telling them _No, humans are not one giant hive mind_ or No, _humans do not ingest only chocolate to sustain themselves._ (Which was downright absurd. Why couldn’t they run only on chocolate? Monsters technically could, so why couldn’t humans? Ugh, carbon-based biology sucks!)

*If you don’t shut it with your snappy inclination I may do just that. You don’t want him to know that you’ve thought about taking his SOUL once or twice, do you?

At this Coronet’s eyelight extinguished entirely, (Stars, that is never going to stop being creepy...) their countenance a strange combination of mortification and apprehension. They weren’t feeling remorse though, as Chara had begun to notice, but instead merely felt frightened at the thought of what the spirit could do with their (fabricated) ability to speak to any human to. They could even argue that they were a little... curious on how Ludwig would react to such a claim.

_It was just a passing thought! I’m not actually going-... I barely know how to use my magic!_

*And the little magic you _can_ do happens to be the one where you can reverse your mistakes with no lasting consequences.

The skeleton suddenly froze, looking more like a realistic Halloween decoration than a living being. (Which by definition standards, they weren’t.) Funny how they seem to think they could hide anything from a ghost that was literally connected to them through what was essentially their blood, but until they learn how to block them out themselves they’d just have to learn tolive with a particularly nosy dead human.

*I am not going to condemn you for it, but just know that time manipulation is not infallible. Every time you LOAD or even RESET, anyone who does not have a high level of Determination will have their memory erased. There is a part of the SOUL, however, that is not as prone to forgetting.

_A... part of them still remembers?_

*Partially remembers. It would arise as déjà vu, the feeling that one has lived through the present situation before.

They paused for a moment, absentmindedly watching Toriel clear the front yard of its last few leaves. Her conversation with the human had returned to a more lighter tone by the looks of both their expressions, chatting idly about something along the lines of... snail pie? (Gross) They continued on like this for the next minute, Ludwig gesturing animatedly with his hands until Toriel’s grin abruptly fell, her paws lifting the flounce of her robes as she mumbled out apologies and made a swift exit for the deeper catacombs.

The human, slightly dazed and confused, quickly followed the Queen with a furrowed glance to the cottage, hollering for her to “Wait up!” as he made a mad dash in the same direction.

...

... okay, that was... not weird. At _all._

They were... just going to ignore the fact that two adults of sound and mind have just left a child completely unsupervised in a cottage. A creepy, practically expressionless and very much not-normal child, but a child nonetheless.

Another flare of annoyance, but this time not directed at them.

*With our current situation I would advise not using it at all, lest we have our position potentially compromised.

_Then what are you suggesting?_

*I am suggesting we leave the Ruins, there is nothing left for us here. And if the Queen allows it we shall come with her until we reach New Home.

_Twigs lives near New Home. Are you trying to get us captured?_

*I’m trying to catch us a break. If you want to start fresh then the Capital is the way to go about it; Snowdin and Waterfall have their qualities, yes, but they won’t provide you with the same opportunities.

Chara hoped they wouldn’t ask about Hotland. As much as they preferred warmth over the freezing cold of Snowdin Forest they could not stand the puzzles that pervaded the area, those disorientating vents never failing in giving them a searing headache that lasted hours. Top that off with the nauseating conveyor belts, there was no way in hell (and Hotland was quite literally the textbook definition of hell) they were letting Coronet set foot in that death trap again. 

(Were the puzzlers threatened to include those or what? No one in their right mind would even think of making conveyor belts the main way of transportation in a land of lava and imminent danger!)

*So, what do you say? You and I have already agreed we can not stay here forever, and frankly our heated back and forth has become rather tiresome.

... _Fine, we’ll go with your plan, not that I have one myself anyway._

*Finally, a sensible thought coming from you.

... _Now that was just uncalled for._

*Just teasing. Though I must say you do not make the brightest decisions when you’re stressed, which is all the time.

_I am going to ignore you now._

*Aw, you know I didn’t mean it. I promise I won’t badger you... too much. Scout’s honour!

_I don’t even know what that means!_

*And I thought you were ignoring me?

... _UGH_.

Chara did not notice until after Coronet had already begun practising their magic, but their smile was genuine for the first time in half a millennium.

* * *

  
*That’s not...! What are you doing?! You’re going to get yourself killed at this rate!

_But I’m getting so close! It looked... somewhat proportional to a skull!_

*Yes, until it EXPLODED in your face! Look at your HP, it wasn’t even your Intent to harm yourself and yet you’ve chipped it to 200! I already told you, learn to walk before you run! You can’t even safely summon more than a single bone and you’re trying to-

_I have healing ITEMs! Loosing a bit of HP is worth the experiment._

*And what if you need to use them for a future ENCOUNTER, you buffoon?! Unless you LOAD your last SAVE we’re not getting them back!

_What I’m hoping is that I won’t need to once I successfully- oh sh-_

....

.....

.......

Where was an adult when you needed one?

* * *

It was an hour later when Toriel and the human returned from... wherever they went, both coming in with somber, gloomy faces. The Queen carried in with her a porcelain vase of blooming buttercups, the sight forcing an unwelcome memory of poison and betrayal to resurface. Instead of Toriel they saw Asriel, and instead of the cottage they were back in New Home, their hands reaching out to clutch at the flowers to swa l l _o w-_

“I must apologise for leaving you, young one,” Toriel’s voice sighed out, snapping Chara out of what almost could have been an episode. “In my excitement I had nearly forgotten to tend to the buttercups.” She went on to place the vase on the dining table, Ludwig following close behind with a sideways glance that indicated either distrust or wariness. (which were both only ever directed at Coronet, interestingly)

“ _You have a garden?_ ” Coronet signed in response, hiding their exasperation of essentially being abandoned for an hour behind a veil of keen interest; besides the damage they’ve done to themself the cottage was left relatively intact (there were a couple cracks and fissions due to the house’s age), but the last few remnants of magical radiation still imbued the rooms, a prickling sensation that was easily noticed by the boss monster.

“Ah, it is not as grand as one may think,” Toriel sheepishly (not quite a pun, but it still made Chara chuckle) replied, gratefully choosing not to press. “It is purely a... memorial, of sorts. A way for me to commemorate a past long gone.”

Commemorating the past by planting the very flowers that caused their suicide? Yeah, _sure_. Toriel may not have known the full truth of their death but the sick sense of irony was still there. Those buttercups were probably planted right where they fell into the Underground too, another fact that cemented just how much of a joke their life seemed to be.

Coronet, oblivious to the ghost’s inner turmoil, nodded, their idle gaze settling on a particularly silent human that was... staring wide-eyed at the spot that just happened to be where Chara was... floating...?

....

The... the hell?!

He couldn’t...

...

Could he?!

.....

Was he able to see them the entire time?! Was that partially why they thought Coronet was a harbinger of death?! He wasn’t even a mage! Was it because of his SOUL?? Coronet couldn’t see them even when they were emotionally vulnerable, so how in the world-

“Now that we are done with the chores, why don’t we begin packing?” The Queen simpered, unaware of how alarmingly awkward the atmosphere was becoming. She made way for her bedroom, leaving a very anxious skeleton and a very suspicious human to have the most intense staring contest Chara has seen to date.

... _he’s not looking at what I think he’s looking at, right?_

*I desperately hope not.

_How can... is this another human thing?_

*I... I don’t know! I don’t recall ever being able to see the dead!

_Well, he is! And it looks like he’s two steps away from telling the Queen that there’s a ghost in her house!_

And with a final piercing glare that lasted far too long the human finally blinked and looked away, his mouth set in a thin, tense line as he wandered off to pack his own things (which pretty much consisted of only the valuables Toriel gave him), only peeping back once before entering his room to make extra, extra sure his eyes weren’t tricking him.

With whatever that was done Coronet wheezed out a breath they didn’t know they were holding, a frantic eyelight staring bemusedly at where Ludwig previously stood before running into their own room. They practically slammed the door behind them, packing their few belongings in a faded brown messenger bag (A gift from Asgore for Chara’s 13th birthday, enchanted with purple magic to be resistant to basically anything that isn’t a nuclear weapon) they found in the chest with a speed that reminded Chara of an old 90s video game.

... _whatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehell-_

Yeah, that about describes it.

* * *

  
_You think I should take one of these?_

Chara drifted closer to the aged sweater Coronet held in their arms, the same lime and yellow slipover that was knitted to match Asriel’s own attire. Over the years Toriel had knitted less... eye-straining clothing for the both of them, but neither of them ever truly grew out of the colour combination. It was, in a way, a symbol of their companionship, different races united together through “The power of matching clothes!”

If power meant having to eternally wear the same sweater for the rest of their undead life, then _colour_ them surprised.

Heh, Sans would love that one. 

*I don’t see why not. I doubt Toriel has much use for it anymore.

_She sure likes to keep her kids’ old things._

*It’s a coping mechanism. Grief is handled differently for everyone.

Nodding, the skeleton stuffed the apparel into the messenger bag and checked once, twice, thrice (a habit they forced onto themselves and now onto Coronet. You can never go wrong in making sure you’ve gotten everything) before swiftly leaving for the front yard. Toriel and Ludwig stood by the now-immaculate gravel path, once again doing the totally not mundane task of ‘talking’. By their feet laid two duffle bags, one significantly larger than the other, adorned with the Dreemurr’s royal crest.

“Greetings, my child,” the Queen welcomed, watching Coronet scuffle over with a soft smile. Though behind her titter there was a pinch of uncertainty and worry, a subtle difference Chara wouldn’t have saw if it weren’t for their years of knowing the boss monster.“Are you ready to set off?”

“ _Yes_ ," They groggily signed (a quick motion that required a bob of a clenched right fist) as they cut an inconspicuous glance towards the blonde human, eyelight dimming when they saw the jittery look he was sending them. “ _Are we leaving now?_ ”

“Very soon. But there is one thing I must ask before we leave,” The Queen then turned to face Ludwig, whose icy blue eyes frantically shot up to meet her own. “Ludwig, may we have an ENCOUNTER?”

The human seemed taken aback by her words, brows creasing and expression tightening. He took an involuntary step back from the Queen, hands digging further into his pockets in what Chara assumed was a weird defence mechanism. What was hunching gonna do against a monster with fire magic...?

“It is to ensure your safety!” Toriel hurriedly added the moment she saw him open his mouth to refuse, a paw reaching out to gently rest on his shoulder. “I cannot guarantee your life will always as peaceful as it is now when we leave the Ruins. Not every monster is as... willing to wait another two centuries.”

“Then as Queen shouldn’t you listen to your people?” The human retorted, a hesitant glower forming on his face. He looked more like he wanted to ask for the sake of asking, to try and see if Toriel could double down on her choices. Was he testing her trust, or just asking for a fireball to the SOUL? “Up in the Surface people make sacrifices not for personal gain or self-fulfilment, but for the people they care about. I get why you don’t want me killed, and I get what will happen if I do get speared in the chest, but what about the thousands of monsters you govern over? Aren’t their happiness important?”

“Of course my kingdom’s wellbeing is important,” The Queen countered, her tone for the most part calm and collected, but still laced with a small snippet of defensiveness. "That is partly why I stopped the murder of Fallen humans in the first place. Killing and allowing Asgore to become the very thing the humans feared will get us no where. Just as before we shall be culled, wiped away from the etches of the earth, or we wage war on the humans and have the same happen to them.”

“But won’t some of your people form a coop in an attempt to dethrone you and Asgore, if what you say is true?” Ludwig looked... indecisive as he kept talking, like he wasn’t quite sure on what to believe when everything he knew had only come from a single source; it was in this that made Chara realise that the blonde was as inquisitive as they were, a human that knew nothing and so wanted to know everything, hungry for information that may later come bite him in the ass.

“There has to be a couple of monsters that actually do want to see my kind fall, right?” He continued, finally releasing his arms from the endless depths of his hoodie pockets to cross them, a stance that, in the ghost’s opinion, made him look a little more... was intimidating the word? No... it was more like... less puny. “Being banished for a thousand years should logically cause some sort of resentment to fester, and I wouldn’t doubt that they’ll want to direct their hate onto you and your family, too.”

“I have always been acutely aware of the implications of how both races would react to me and my actions; I had many restless nights before and after the War where I contemplated the weight of what I have done, of what Asgore had done. So yes, I have come to realise that not everyone is satisfied with my decision to spare humans, and yes, I am, at times, concerned of what that dissatisfaction could insinuate for the future of my kingdom. But I did not rule for millennia without learning a thing or two about ruling said kingdom,” Toriel’s mouth quirked into a small but warm smile, her paw lingering for a second longer on the human’s shoulder.“I can fully assure you that a revolt of that caliber will not happen, but that does not mean I will not prepare you in the case of a confrontation. Now, does my answer suffice?”

Ludwig gawked wide-eyed at Toriel, standing rigidly (more like creepily) still. He took a few moments to contemplate her words, gaze wandering to throw another timid glance at an also staring Coronet, whose eyelight was boring into his concealed SOUL. “Yeah... we can, umm... give this 'ENCOUNTER’ thing a shot. How do we start?”

“It is rather simple! All you will need to do is to stand a suitable distance from me and I shall do the rest.” The Queen said, clapping her hands enthusiastically. She took Coronet’s much smaller hand into her own, a clawed finger rubbing reassuringly at their palm as she guided them to the entrance to the cottage.

Chara followed closely behind them, looking back to see Ludwig at a position much further than he was just before. He stood there extremely... awkwardly, but... it didn’t seem like he knew where they were anymore, at least? They were no longer feeling like they were being watched, and he’s only weirdly stared at Coronet once since they finished packing, so... was it some sort of... magical accident, or...?

They’ll have to look into this.

“Have you ever seen or been in an ENCOUNTER before, young one?” The boss monster asked, crouching down to the skeleton’s eye level. “You may stay inside while I train Ludwig, if you wish. I can call you once we are done."

_Should we just say we’ve been in one?_

*No... maybe? I’m pretty sure she’s already a little suspicious of your... origins. But better safe than sorry, I suppose.

_Okay... that does not help me. At all._

*Do you think I’ve been in a situation where I needed to explain to anyone on whether or not I’ve been in an ENCOUNTER? This may come as a surprise to you but I was a normal human once, not some bloody ghost who’s stuck with a stupid pile of decaying bones as a host!

Shaking their head, (at Toriel or them, they did not know, but they did not miss the infuriated glare that briefly flashed in their eye socket) Coronet took a seat by the entrance, placing their messenger bag right where a SAVE point floated. A nearly inaudible buzz emitted from the golden star, flaring and shifting at the proximity to its wielder, its yellow rays dancing along Toriel’s pristine fur despite her lack of Determination to see it.

“Very well. Do be careful, my child. We will be quick, or at least try to be!” The Queen chuckled, brushing a paw over their skull in a display of affection before standing up to her full height, sending the skeleton one last maternal smile as she left to join the human.

Chara subconsciously gritted their teeth at the gesture, once again neglecting the pang of jealously bubbling in their chest. For a succinct instant they wanted it to be her who saw them instead of Ludwig, wanted her to at least glimpse at them _and_....!

They were right there, weren’t they? She just... had to turn her head a little, maybe not even _that_ and she’ll...

... No.

She can’t see them, she _won’t_ see them. Not like this. Not when all they could do now with their spectral body is provide a guiding voice for a child who’s ignorant of the world. Not when they were quite literally a shadow of their former self. What would Toriel think if she saw them now? What would she think if she came to realise what they had become? What would any of them think of the implications of being a ghost? If... if they were ever going to truly be with her again, if they were going to ever, _ever_ see the rest of their family again, they’ll have to find a new body for themself, they’ll have to create a new body for their SOUL (or what remained of it) to settle in...

Or...

Hmm.

Yes, that could work.

They moved to be nearer to Coronet, their shoed but ghostly feet drifting silently in the Underground draft, their short, tawny hair blowing across their countenance. A small smile had crept onto their pale face, gradually stretching to reach their ears until it was the exact same grin Asriel used to fear so much. In the crevices of their shattered mind a plan was beginning to form, a most interesting, pivotal plan that just may be able to work in both their favours if they could get the child to agree...

But, in the meantime, they shall simply watch and lend a helping hand when the skeleton needed it. A witting observer, a devil’s advocate, a promoter of the cause.

A narrator.

Heh. A rather fitting title.

And one they shall proudly embellish.

For now, anyway.

* * *

“As I am Queen, there may be extended periods of time where I’ll be unavailable to aid you in times of conflict. And as I said when we first met if such a thing happens you must learn to fend for yourself through placative measures, only then will a monster grant you MERCY.”

Toriel had her hands neatly folded on top of one another, her wise, aged eyes surreptitiously watching the human’s every move. Said human, however, looked a lot more... panicky, hands buried back into his hoodie in some meek attempt to hide himself, which, if making himself look weak was the goal, was definitely successful. It was to be expected, Chara supposed, Ludwig did not know what an ENCOUNTER would entail, and the word literally being in capitals certainly didn’t ebb the feeling. If Chara did not know any better they would have been a little freaked out as well, and they _were_ , when they first heard about it. Humans did not have an equivalent to how monsters confronted each other, the closest being to... well, having a really intimate pep talk. (But NOT in that way!) It was all fists and kicks for the fleshy kind, and all SOULs and negotiation for the magical kind.

“Once I call forth your SOUL the environment surrounding us will shift into black, leaving nothing but ourselves and a few green border lines visible,” the boss monster continued, her Royal robes catching just a slight bit of wind. “Coronet, as they are a spectator, will also not be visible to us.”

“Okay, okay... didn’t you say something about turns...”

The pair went on like this for a few more minutes, but Chara had already long tuned out by the time Ludwig asked about ACTing. While they have never been in an ENCOUNTER themself (they’ve been in plenty of situations where they were a bystander to one, or even were sometimes the reason why an ENCOUNTER was initiated in the first place) It was... difficult, having someone else to fight their battles, but anyone with a rudimental understanding of magic will be able to sense the latent magic in their SOUL if it were summoned, a risk they did not want to take after that one disaster of a timeline.

_Hey, you still listening?_

*Nope. And it seems like you aren’t either.

The skeleton chuckled in riposte, a reverberating sound that Chara had only heard once or twice. Now, they did not understand the physics of how laughing worked (nor the biology... monsterology?), but they were pretty sure that mute people could...kind of laugh, or at least look like they were laughing. Coronet’s shoulders were hunching, and their socket was lightly grooving in amusement, so that must’ve meant something, right?

_Frankly I’m getting a little excited about leaving the Ruins. It gets small once you’ve explored it._

*Agreed. But you must admire its history. This is where thousands of monsters used to live in for the first few hundred years after their banishment. Does that not excite you?

_No, but you’re going ramble about it anyway, aren’t you?_

*Welllll, if you insist-

Out of nowhere there was a... bleat of... embarrassment(??) from the general vicinity of a usually levelheaded Queen, both Coronet and Chara’s gazes shooting up in sync to see Toriel red in the face. Her mahogany eyes were wide with shock, her mouth agape before it promptly snapped shut with a near painful click of her teeth.

“Summoning one’s SOUL outside of battle or a medical examination is considered an act of great intimacy!” Toriel’s expression was one Chara did not see often, one of abject horror and flushed bashfulness. Her snowy white fur was whiter than ever, and... woah, were the tips of her ears turning pink too? “It takes great trust to show someone the very culmination of your being. You do not just simply show it to anyone you pass by on the street!”

.... What type of question did Ludwig ask to get THAT kind of answer?!

_What does she mean by... eenteemacy?_

...

.....

... This not what they signed up for when they ate those...!

*Nothing! She meant nothing! The human is just being an idiot, that’s all! A blubbering, oblivious idiot with an unchecked mouth!

... Stars, at least Ludwig looked suitably ashamed of himself. Not unlike a turtle his head had somehow retreated into his hoodie, leaving only his nose and cheeks visible (which the human was currently trying to remedy by pulling tautly on the drawstrings), its shade a red Chara didn’t know was humanely possible.

A weird human thing that the skeleton just _couldn’t help_ but ask.

_Why... why is his face all... red? Is he okay? Do you all-_

*YES. Whatever you’re thinking, its answer is most likely yes. Can we move on now? Please?

To their great relief Coronet reluctantly nodded, eventually settling back onto their hunches despite knowing there was... uhh... a lot ‘more’ to SOULs than they originally thought, and Chara was not _at all l_ ooking forward to the onslaught of ‘eenteemacy’ questions that were no doubt going to be sent their way once they begin travelling to the Capital.

Thanks, blonde. You sure make my life easier.

“Now then, with our... composure regained, let us begin,” Toriel chastely quipped, her face now back to normal. “You may feel a pinching and pulling sensation in your chest when I summon your SOUL. Do not fret, my child, it will cease as soon as it comes.”

The spirit watched with increasing interest as Toriel reached out into the open air with a outstretched palm, eyes narrowing in focus. Swiftly clenching her fist she pulled, the tendrils of magic in the air constricting and releasing in response to her Intent, grabbing onto Ludwig’s SOUL and-

“Oh... oh my.“

It did not take long for Chara’s eye to adjust to the purple luminance of Ludwig’s SOUL, but when they lowered their arm they gasped, their body momentarily freezing at the sight of a very, very sickly looking heart..

It was... grossly looking, to put it lightly. It resembled a purple SOUL, and it still had Perseverance as its main Trait, but it was... how could they word this? Damaged? Tainted? Corrupted? It looked liked a blood vessel had spread across its surface, dark mauve lines that protruded and pulsated at the rhythm of the SOUL’s beat. And if they squinted and stared at it juusst a little closer they’d be able to make out little tiny cracks, faded and healed like scars on a body forever engraved in their memory.

And the owner of said SOUL was freaking out.

“HolyshitwhydoesmySOULlooklikeaweirdamalgamationofacartoonandarealifeheartisthatnormalohgodi’mfreakingout-“ His hands were wildly trying to grasp at it, but every time his fingers would just phase right through the membrane, as if it weren’t there at all.

.... _that is not what human SOULs looked like in that book Twigs showed me._

*Because it’s not a ordinary human SOUL! It’s... this is not the first time I’ve seen something like this, but the damage was never to this extent!

Was this why their cult...?

“Ludwig, stop!” The Queen cried, surveying the SOUL just like everyone else in the room but with a lot more... composure compared to certain human. There wasn’t much she could do in a situation that took turns, but what she could do was to attempt to calm the human trying to claw his SOUL out of his body like two raccoons wrestling for a thrown apple. “You can not touch your SOUL! The ENCOUNTER won’t allow it!”

“But- _t-then_ -... is this normal?!”

“No, it is not! I have not seen many SOULs like yours but futilely raking at it will not do much but further agitate you!”

That, thankfully, pacified the human somewhat. He had finally stopped squirming where he stood, opting to instead just sort of... gape at it like it stepped on his puppy and personally insulted his crops; it was then that Chara had realised he was shaking, his legs threatening to buckle under the weight of... discovering he had a SOUL despite being warned beforehand, they guessed? Now, they would admit that _maybe_ seeing the culmination of everything you were for the first time was a... surreal experience, but... that could not be why he was shivering, right?

... right???

“So... there is something wrong with it, you mean.”

“Not necessarily,” Toriel reassured, her tone purposely soft. “In actuality it is rather common for an adult’s SOUL to be... tinctured, in a sense. It is the result of one’s strife in life. An imprint of their trials and struggles.”

“But why does mine look so... unhealthy?”

“Only you can answer that question,” Chara knew that Toriel had a _lot_ more to say by the pensive expression she was wearing, a look they grew to recognise as one engrossed with half-truths. One simply could not live for a few thousand years without learning a thing or two about how SOULs worked. “But let us focus on the task at hand for now, we will discuss the matters of your SOUL at length at a later date.”

Nodding his head (even if it was more of a halfhearted bob), the human breathed nasally through his nose, inhaling and then exhaling in a way that mollified his racing heart. He continued for approximately a minute or two, the monarch patiently watching and waiting as the dulled SOUL in turn started to beat much less rapidly than it was seconds prior. It was a breathing exercise, Chara recalled, a type of self-soothing mechanism that one would use for the likes of panics attacks. It... honestly hit a little too close to home for them to not feel at least a breadth of sympathetic empathy for Ludwig, but... there was really not much of them left to feel such a emotion.

“Even as a human with no magic, you will need to use your Intent to get through an ENCOUNTER,” The Queen began, gearing back into her ‘teacher mode’. “You are given four options to change how our battle will escalate. You may not see it, but imagine the options are like a... video game, where you will need to press a button to choose what your character does. Does that make sense?”

“Y...yess...? I’m not that into video games so- uh... I’ll figure it out.”

“Hehe, alright. But did you see what you did there? You used a turn by talking to me, which is an extrapolation of ACTing. You are already making progress on sparing me, even without you knowing it! By observing a monster’s behaviour and mannerisms you will have to think creatively on how to ACT. For example, you may have to throw a stick for a dog monster to catch, or you may have to compliment an ice monster on their fashionable hat, any way that would appease them and have them offer their MERCY.”

“It is really that easy, though? What if there was a monster that actually wanted to kill me? What then? I can’t just... let them hurt me, right?”

“Of course not,” The boss monster’s expression darkened at his words, simper waning in favour of a tense frown. Chara could not see it, but they imagined against the black background of an ENCOUNTER her face must have looked... pretty foreboding, a sentiment that was emboldened by the paling of Ludwig’s face. “But that is... the worst case scenario. If that ever happens... you must FIGHT them, but only until their health reaches a critical point. By then the monster will be forced to spare you. Do you understand?”

Her tone was firm and serious, a barest hint of what laid hidden by her sweet exterior. Neither the human nor the skeleton had as of yet seen that side of her, the side that granted her gateway into marrying royalty, the side that allowed her to govern and earn the respect of her people for a thousand years, the side that Chara came to revere the most. She kept it buried, and buried she did, only ever giving out subtle, indirect hints that she was not always going to be the merciful, benevolent Queen she was known for.

Ludwig gulped, and nodded again.

A wise decision.

“Now that you have ACTed, why don’t you try granting me MERCY? Remember, it is the Intent that matters, so as long as you want to spare me, and as long as you have the will to act upon it, the ENCOUNTER will end.”

And with the Intent processed and exchanged between both parties, Ludwig’s SOUL scooted back into his chest, happy to be reunited with its owner, whilst the leafless tree, a immemorial spectator in not just one battle, returned to its original wine tint.   
  


* * *

“I knew you were royalty, Toriel, but I... uhh... certainly didn’t expect this...?”

“I... my escorts have never been quite _this_ large.”

Tightening the already-firm grip on your messenger bag you gingerly poked your head out of the Ruins door, clawed phalanges scraping against the magenta stone. Stalking towards Toriel and the human were a quartet of armoured guards, their feet crunching harshly against the fallen snow.

Three of them had their faces concealed by enchanted helmets, leaving only their eyes and ears visible. Their solemn gazes seemed to flicker between the Queen and Ludwig, one of them, you noticed, even clasping onto their scabbard as if in reflex. They all easily towered over you, forms broad and imposing. But what stood out to you the most, however, was the one monster who didn’t have their helmet on.

It was the same fire elemental you saw in Twigs laboratory half a week ago.

And instead of looking at either Toriel or the lot more interesting and peculiar sixth human SOUL, he was glaring daggers are _you_.

“Lieutenant, what is the meaning of this? Weren’t you on your annual leave?”

He blinked once, then twice, pupil-less golden eyes snapping to meet Toriel’s own. (Though it still somehow felt like he was staring right at you) He straightened himself before bowing respectfully, flaming arms folding behind his back.

“You’re in danger, my Queen,” he replied dutifully, his rich voice more akin to one of a less... militaristic position. The other guards kept their head bowed courteously, ordered with a strict but gentle bark to stay still. “Your whole family is, along with the civilians in Hotland and the Capital.”

“I have been keeping in touch with the Royal Messenger since I’ve left and he has yet to mention a single peep on this supposed ‘threat.’ What danger are you speaking of?”

The fire monster’s dour expression faltered for a fleeting moment, his professional facade ebbing until it was replaced with a look more grim than the last. “Recent debriefs from the guards stationed at the castle have reported piles of dust appearing among the grounds, including where the Royal Messenger once stood. I’m afraid it’s a code Lambda, your Majesty.”

Toriel’s arms were... shaking, tiny sparks of flames glinting into existence beside her clenching paws. But even in her restrained anger her timbre remained contained and unmoved, a skill she had acquired through centuries of practice. "Tell everyone to evacuate to the Bunker. I must speak to my husband."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not entirely too happy with how the ending came out, so dont be surprised if theres an added 300 hundred words a day or two after i post this. ;)
> 
> And!! Grillby and Asriel POV next chapter!! Are we finally gonna reach the end of this arc, or will the author inevitably extend it by three more chapters due to how much they like to write what is essentially filler? Who knooowsss.
> 
> EDIT: there!! I changed the ending to one more... _worthy _to be called a cliffhanger. I was considering saving this for next chapter butttt... i felt this would be a bit more fitting. ;)__
> 
> _  
> _And!!!! Thank you all for the 29 (EDIT: now 30 lmao) bookmarks and (almost) 2,000 views! Yes, I didn’t mistype that, ‘cause _apparently_ theres a whole 5/6 of a dozen people who decided to private their bookmarks. Who are you, i wonder... 🤔_  
> _


	21. You Could Call It Bravery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asriel has a meaningful conversation about the Royal Scientist’s sense of humour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you don’t always have a step by step procedure of what happens in each chapter, folks. But at least i finally got a new chapter out! 
> 
> Like I _anticipated_ I got... a little carried away with Asriel’s POV. I ended up writing just above 6,000 words for his part, and if I were to include Grillby’s then it would have made chapter 21 well above 10,000 words. (and I haven’t even finished writing some of his scenes yet!) That’s too long even for my standards! So instead of having one super duper long chapter that may become a bit much, why not spilt it into two much more digestible parts?
> 
> If things go smoothly the next chapter should be expected to come out within a few days. And aforementioned I’ve already written most of Grillby’s POV, minus a few things here and there that I’m a little stuck at (plus, I’ve even written some future chapters ahead of time, too!) so hopefully y’all won’t have to wait another two months for an update-

Asriel glanced up at his father, emerald eyes watching anxiously as the King of monsters spoke in hushed, hurried whispers, his usually booming voice now carrying only to the Captain’s ears.

He hid his coughs behind his lime-coloured sleeves, hoping that neither monster would notice his degrading health. The both of them already had enough of problems showing themselves from beyond the fence, the case with the Royal Scientist’s assistant, the Royal Scientist himself and now the sudden occurrence of mounds upon mounds of dust appearing among the castle grounds putting more workload than ever before on the Dreemurrs’ shoulders. Relatively speaking to well... all of that... the ups and downs of his weird SOUL really wasn’t that high on the priority list. 

As long it wasn’t cracking, he should be just _fine_.   
  


Gerson had ordered him to stay in the castle after their conversation half a week ago, telling him that he would notify Asgore and the rest of the Royal Guard on their... discoveries. Since that day his father had been particularly busy, debriefing his closest advisors and guards on the possibility of a kingdom-wide lockdown, depending on the circumstance. But no one knew enough about Corrupted magic to know how it manifested itself, and how it spread. While the captain had insisted that there was most likely someone who was behind all this, there was a slight chance that it was, in a way, almost akin to a virus, or that it multiplied like one after some malicious caster manipulated a poor SOUL into culminating all that LV.

_Golly, that sounds so... messed up._

Ginger, the wayward monster who everyone suspected to be the culprit all of the dustings, was nowhere to be found. While it had been true that there were sightings of him walking near the local hospital (but not inside said hospital, peculiarly), he had soon disappeared without a trace. Literally. The radiation that came with using magic was not detected near any of the mounds of dust, so there was no way to identify the culprit. They had to have used a non-enchanted weapon.

And that was what made everyone’s mana run cold.

Whoever this was wasn’t just mindlessly killing people. They had a cohesive, well-structured plan. And with no real lead to go off of the guards could only scramble to find any evidence they could get their hands on, whether that would mean searching the Underground for any other monster who might fall to this... Corruption or contacting anyone who might have some knowledge on banned hexes.

Since then the once hectic streets of the Capital have been pretty empty, save for the influx of guards that were now patrolling the district. Hotland was declared highly unsafe due to its proximity to the city, while the denizens of Waterfall and Snowdin were to check-in daily for updates on whatever electronic device they possessed.(some of the older folk were still using exclusively Surface-fallen radios, all of which were all at least a few decades old and probably emitting smoke by now.)

He doesn’t know much of Gaster’s assistants, only having ever seen their overworked faces coming in and out of the laboratory while he was having his checkups.They never spoke to him, they barely even bowed or glanced at him, but he figured they were just too tired or engrossed to. Much like their boss they often jaunted like half-live husks, always seeming too focussed on their work to consider what they were doing to themselves. Perhaps it was some sort of shared habit between scientists, or that Gaster forced them into such a tendency, but Asriel never felt any ill-Intent emanating from them, not even a little bit. They were, quite simply, very fatigued professionals.

But... he had no idea, really. It was now a lot harder to know a monster’s true nature without his ability to listen into another’s Resonance, especially for those who had more... stoic personalities, which was basically everyone in that stars-damned place, so...

... heh, it really all had to lead to Gaster, didn’t it? Because _of course_ it did. Because of course it’s four-hands who, two years after literally performing what could be considered necromancy and causing the whole mess that was Flowey, was now... how was he even going to describe it? Self-attaining genocide through parasitic SOUL manipulation? Some weird attempt on using the Underground populace as lab-rats with forbidden magic? Something that can and will inevitably backfire on him, unless...

... Huh...

Was that why there was a LOAD...?

Asriel sighed in frustration at the thought, idly scratching behind his ears in some poor attempt to ward off his thoughts. Did that scientist really not have so much of a conscience where he’d risk the safety of everyone to satisfy his own curiosity? Where he’d go as low as a SOULless flower to find a way to break the Barrier?

Was it even just about freeing monsters from their prison anymore?

He looked over to his father, whose voice had returned to its original volume. He and Gerson were speaking nearly frantically now, the turtle monster’s bushy brows furrowing as they discussed on the matters of... the Queen? Had she not...?

“Mum is still in the Ruins?” He couldn’t help but butt in, realising far too late that he was speaking aloud. Welp, too late now. “Isn't she usually back in the castle by this time?”

“She should be,” Asgore’s baritone voice rumbled in reply, his hunched yet gargantuan form towering over the other two monsters. “Gerson has already notified the lieutenant and the guards patrolling Snowdin. They are marching towards the Ruins as we speak.” The old king moved in long, languid strides as he spoke, a nervous habit he had gained from his centuries of solitude and lingering resentment. He wasn’t walking towards any particular destination (not deliberately anyway), but neither prince nor captain minded, following closely behind with somber expressions.

Clicking his tongue in thought, Asriel crossed his arms, claws extending to fiddle with the material of his sweater. As per the agreement between the two monarchs, Toriel was permitted to leave New Home once a month, whether that would be to the Capital or Snowdin Forest, but only for, at most, a week. Asgore wanted to make sure she was as comfortable as possible after her return from her self-exile, and if that took having to sleep in separate beds for the next few hundred years and allowing for her to travel alone, then...

He’ll gladly take it.

But... it hasn’t been a week already, has it? Time was passing so fast for Asriel that he no longer could keep up with it, its pace seeming more and more out of reach as the years passed. He was now just... going along with the motions, letting the passage of seconds and minutes and hours slip through his fingertips, his mind and body mindlessly wandering from one duty to the next.

Perhaps, in a way... he was a lot like his father, hiding away his true feelings in favour of keeping his citizens’ Hopes up, in favour of keeping the people he cared about at arms length. Asgore may have looked like a happy-go-lucky monster from first glance, offering visitors tea and sagacious advice to whoever needed it, dressing up as Santa to give gifts to the striped of the Underground, but in truth he hid a lot of himself from the public, all the morose, guilt-wracked thoughts muddling his mind dispersed in an instant the moment there was someone else in the room. He just wasn’t the same cuddly, giant, loveable pushover Asriel knew anymore. Neither of his parents were.

And that was why he had to do this. Why he had to do something instead of letting others do the work for him while he sulked miserably within the castle walls. Everything that has and is happening was at least partially his fault, and he no longer could afford to be complacent and just... sit by and wait for news to arrive. He needed to ACT, and fast.

“Dad,” The prince said after a minute of sullen, stiff silence, craning his fluffy head upwards to directly face Asgore. “I need to go see Dr. Gaster. Now.”

“Have you not at all been listening to what I’m saying?” It did not surprise Asriel that Asgore’s reaction would be immediate disapproval, but his steadfast guise never wavered, keeping his arms crossed as he narrowed his eyes at the taller boss monster.“It is much too dangerous to even be outside the castle grounds right now, let alone to visit the monster who is heavily involved with the matter! An evacuation is soon to be in order Asriel, you will not see the doctor for some time I’m afraid.”

“And if it is your SOUL that is the issue,” the King continued after a moment’s consideration, brows widening fractionally as if finally realising what date it was. “We could easily gather a group of SOUL scientists and medical doctors to help monitor it for you, if that is what you need.”

While his SOUL was to some extent why he needed to see the skeleton, it really wasn’t at the forefront of his mind at the moment. His teeth grinded uneasily as he replied, trying in vain to keep his voice level and unemotional.“No, dad- It’s for... it’s for something else.”

“And what would that “somethin’ else” be, boy?” Cut in Gerson’s scratchy cadence, the armoured turtle eyeing him like exclusive, premium dark chocolate in a candy store. “Ya know very well that old bloke is busy all the darn time lest you sign up for an appointment wit ‘im in advance, so if it ain’t your SOUL that’s making ya wanna risk your life like some dolt, then what is it?”

“I... I can’t say,” _Stars_ , why was he so bad at being assertive?! He was choking out his words like he was being forced to! At this rate neither of them were going to believe him and he’ll be really forced to stay in New Home. “But it’s for something really, really important, I swear! I wouldn’t have said anything otherwise.”

The two elders blinked and shared a look with one another, a look that just screamed “Well, that just looked suspicious” and “Should we actually let him?”, and with the way their faces seemed to darken and crease, the latter seeming less and less likely the longer the stillness went on.

Well, that was until Asgore heaved out a sigh that was a little too loud, and gave a frown that was a little too soft. “My son, I know that you are not helpless, none of us do. We have all seen enough of your magic to know that it is powerful, and your control over it has only gotten more immaculate with each passing day,” the king’s gaze shifted momentarily to nod at Gerson, who even before the gesture had already begun leaving to command his soldiers. “But I will only permit you to leave if you bring two chaperones with you, and that you promise me that you will be back within a few hours. Do you understand?”

Asriel nodded as stringently as he could, masking his shock behind the giddy realisation that his father trusted him, _his father trusted him!_ Or at the least trusted him enough to take care of himself, albeit... with a bit of help. Smiling gratefully, he whispered,“Th... thank you, dad. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Oh, I think I could guess,” Asgore had a simper of his own beginning to form, but it was one that much more rueful than his son’s, a kind of bitter poignancy that was only ever seen behind closed doors. "Meet Gerson by the main entrance downstairs, he’ll be waiting for you with two of my personal bodyguards in tow. You have your phone, I presume?”

Asriel nodded once more, this time with a bit more confidence than before. He had not a clue how he somehow managed to convince his father with how timid and pitiful he’s been acting lately, but... he’ll certainly take it! He had not been outside the Capital since the last time he visited the Royal Scientist, which has been described as “borderline hermit behaviour” by some of his family’s nosier guests, apparently.

Hmph, as if they knew anything about him and his inner lamentations.

... not that he would want them to know, anyway.

But just before he could turn and follow the steps downstairs he felt a paw clasp gently onto his shoulder, more specifically a very fuzzy, very large and very mighty paw that would usually feel calming and reassuring any other time that wasn’t now.

“Asriel, wait,” called the gargantuan owner of said paw, his grip faintly tightening in what also should have been a comforting display which instead only felt more like a... vague, indirect threat. Yeah, that. “There is something else we need to discuss, just so I can acknowledge that we are on the same page."

Again Asriel nodded, not trusting himself enough to speak. Huh, he’s sure been doing a whole lot of head bobbing action these days. Maybe he should just become a selective mute and act his out days signing like Dr. Gaster. It would circumvent a lot of his stammers and accidental mutterings of alternate timelines, if nothing else. But... if he were to decide on switching to signing, wouldn’t that make things a lot harder for himself in terms of multitasking? It wasn’t like he had multiple pairs of hands at his beck and call, and he definitely wasn’t as proficient in monster sign language as the Royal Scientist was, so...

“Son... look at me,”

He shut his eyes, firm and resolute.

" _Look_ at me.”

He swallowed down a growl.

“Asriel. _Please_.”

His fists clenched.

“... we can not keep dancing around each other any longer. You know this.”

He does, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it.

“Both Toriel and I have... convened on your recent behaviour. All those... erratic mood swings of yours have only gotten worse as of late, and I can not help but feel as though... You do understand that you can talk to either of us, yes?”

Sighing, his own claws reached out to forcefully pry off of Asgore’s grasp, the scraping of serrated nails making the shorter of the two wince. “No, dad. I’m not... I’m not...”

He shakily sucked in a breath.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

And _besides_ \- the both of them really had someplace else to go to right about now, especially the awkward, nervous prince who nowadays preferred to be anywhere but within two metres of his also awkward, nervous father... not that it was his fault that he was like this.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Nothing but the hushed, baited breaths of the two boss monsters to be heard.

Asriel had long stopped counting the seconds when he felt a looming shadow gradually (and dejectedly, but he already had enough guilt on his conscience) slink away from his form, the thumps of heavy footfalls bouncing off the walls of the hall. And when he finally twisted around and peaked open his eyes Asgore had already turned the corner, nowhere to be seen, the only waning traces of the king being the lingering remnants of aromatic tea.

He bolted out of the hall and then the castle before any regret and shame could start creeping insidiously into his mind. He strained to keep his face straight, nodding and smiling to any servant and soldier who greeted him like he hadn’t at all just accidentally (but it wasn’t really accidental, now was it?) hurt another member of his family.

**Why?** His SOUL implored, a painful tug erupting along his chest. **Why are you always such an idiot? Why do you always hurt the people you care about? Why aren’t you the same Asriel they knew long ago? Why don’t you truly try to be a better person? Why aren’t you enough? Whywhywhywhywhy-**

_I don’t know! And you’re not helping!_ Came his mind’s desperate reply, already tuning out the peals and thumps of his culmination. He did not need this, he did not _want_ this, not now when he was actually trying to make a _difference_ for once! His SOUL gave another painful wrench before it was ushered into submission, nearly impelling him into a coughing fit if he wasn’t already prepared for it.

Unless another coincidental LOAD sent the Underground all tumbling into last Sunday he really, really doubted he’d be getting out of any awkward family incident that easily again. Mostly likely the moment he comes back from Hotland his father will be standing by the gate waiting for him as if he found out he stole some kid’s lunch money, or something. 

He got what he wanted, he supposed, but when he treaded out of the castle’s north gate with two armour-cladded dragons behind his heels he could not ignore that infuriating pang of guilt that managed to acrimoniously worm its way into his being, its grasp only worsening the closer to Gaster’s lab he was.

It took roughly five minutes of brisk walking to get to the Riverperson’s Capital Stop (which, thankfully, passed with no qualms) and another half an hour to reach the Royal Scientist’s side of the Underground. Hotland and in extension, the CORE, had always been known to be rather... barren, save for the puzzles, workers and the few schools that were built to accomodate the increasing population of New Home. Its molten environment really only suited a small percentage of monsters, and even then it was rare to see an average citizen walking among the first few floors of this Angelforsaken place.

Despite having a lot more resilience to fire than most monsters, Asriel couldn’t exactly say he enjoyed being in such close proximity to more-than-scalding-hot lava. His fur was only fire-proof to magic borne flames, not to natural liquified rock that happened to be a billion degrees. Nevertheless, he moved forward.

(He briefly wondered if Gaster could feel temperature, being a skeleton who basically wore only long-sleeved turtlenecks and trench coats no matter what climate he was in.)

“No time like the present,” he lamented within his head, stalking towards the ominous metal door that’d been in his nightmares more frequently than he’d care to accept. Mentally shaking off his betraying thoughts, he shot a polite but fidgety smile at a (creepily) watching Riverperson and the two stone-faced guards standing at attention beside him. (who, in his attempt to think of anything else but his father had realised seemed... pretty into each other, if the way they sometimes stared at one another meant anything)

He gave little winces as his bare feet met the chalky, dry mire of Hotland with each step he took. The ground here felt as hospitable and welcoming as the magma it floated on, and just as forgiving as the scientist who decided that experimenting with human SOUL properties was the next hot (snrk-) thing. 

But it was... quiet. Quieter than normal, anyway. Even the low-pitch hum of the lab felt a lot more subdued than usual, which was weird considering that would imply that the building was running low on power and had to switch to energy conservation mode. What was even _weirder_ was that the entire place was run with electricity produced by the CORE, a generator with a practically bottomless resource, if Gaster and every existing geologist in the Underground were to be believed.

He came to a standstill before the entrance, his paw hanging in the air in reluctance before it reached down to knock gently, his ears twitching to listen if anyone were actually on the other side of the door.

“Who is it?” Hollered a jittery, meek voice whom the prince recognised immediately, the clatter of numerous boxes being moved accompanying alongside it. “If it is you, Doctor, then uhh... maybe you should just... return later. Like, later later, because we’re kind of in a crisis in the moment and _I’dreallypreferifyoustayedoutsiderightnow_.”

“No, Inermus, it’s just me,” Asriel replied, hiding his mounting unease behind not-quite-mastered professionalism. “Is it only you in there? Could I... come in for a little while?”

“Of... of course you can, your Highness!” The door slid open with a deep _shrrkkk_ , revealing a disheveled, panicked lizard in an unironed lab coat. The laminated tag he always wore while at work was missing, and his scaled tail was swishing madly in either agitation or nerves. The poor monster looked like he went through hell, and Asriel was sure that his sudden presence was not doing him any favours either.

With a frown he stepped onto the cold, sterile tiles of the ground floor, the guards nonchalantly stalking in after him as they inspected their new surroundings. Asriel watched as Inermus gulped and took a timid step back, his legs almost hitting an overflowing box if he hadn’t swerved around on time.

_Shows how much he knows the place._

“I don’t know how long it’ll be until the Doctor returns,” Inermus started, expression apologetic for all the clutter that has been amassing since the prince’s previous visit. “The last I’ve seen of him was when he went out for a smoke break. That was... hours ago. ”

“Is that why you’re alone? The others went searching for him?”

“No, they’re... downstairs,” There was a rather suspicious pause before Inermus continued, but Asriel remained silent, allowing the lizard to gather his thoughts without interference. “They’re just cleaning up a few of our dossiers and projects before we leave. We have thought about going out and looking for him but... well, you know how it is. None of us can really do well in a fight. Except for the Doctor, that is.”

Asriel’s frown deepened, ultimately deciding to ignore the intern’s initial reluctance to answer for now. It was probably for the best, anyway. “You sure you’ll be alright once you’re out there? Hotland isn’t exactly the most secure place right now.” He bit his lip before he could say any more, dreading the even slim chance of saying a little too much.

“Don’t worry too much, your Highness! We’ll be fine,” But Inermus did not, in fact, sound fine. But Asriel wasn’t about to call out on his denial, he’s been in the exact same position himself. “But... I really think you should leave. I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon.”

“Is he looking for... you know who?”

At that Inermus froze like a gyftrot caught in candlelight. His mouth subconsciously quivered, and Asriel could have sworn he saw a glimpse of guilt on his countenance. “M-maybe... you know he’s a very secretive monster. He doesn’t tell us anything unless he wants us to be directly involved- which we _aren’t_! It really gets on my nerves sometimes, I tell you that... though now that I think about it “sometimes” is one heck of a understatement. I can’t believe Pars and Mabel just... let him get away with telling half-truths all the time! Believe me, working here has been a dream come true and I have learned a lot about maintaining the CORE and... the fastest and most efficient way to get coffee... but his aloof personality makes it _soooo_ difficult to handle all these projects and bossing around and- oh my stars I’m rambling out loud aren’t I-“

Asriel blinked, and then snorted.

“Wha..! oh no, you’re laughing at me, aren’t you? I didn’t mean to start blabbing but you weren’t talking and I get nervous when people just stare at me, so...”

“No no, it’s fine.” Asriel waved him off, smiling. “Honestly, I kind of needed that. I don’t like it when people look at me for too long, either.”

Inermus managed a shaky smile back, veering to gently kick back a crate filled with... instant ramen? (Soy sauce vegetarian flavour too, Asriel noted. Huh... he didn’t expect Gaster to be one for noodles.)“I was... I was being serious, though. About the Doctor, I mean.”

The prince raised a brow, mood suddenly sobering. “He’s that distant with you?”

“Maybe only to _me_ ,” the lizard replied, his eyes darting up to observe the two guards, both of whom having had moved a distance away from the two of them just before their conversation started, out of respect for Asriel, he’d guess. “He never talks to me outside of work, and even in here it’s pretty sparse, normally only a few “Go fetch me that wrench”’s and “Have you fixed the wiring of that geothermal thermostat”s. I don’t know if it’s because I’m relatively new here or if he’s reserved to the extreme, but I have this nagging feeling that my coworkers and I all agree that he’s probably scared of getting too attached because, well... it’s so easy for monsters to care, y’know? One decent conversation about literally anything is enough for us to look after one another and start seeing each other as friends- even _family_ , and- and I think he’s terrified of that. Terrified of being to close to anyone. You know what I mean?”

Inermus’ face fell when he realised that he went on a tangent again, and it only grew more downcast when Asriel didn’t immediately respond, not that he knew how to. How could he put into words that there was a real reason (or two) why Gaster was the way he was? That the Royal Scientist had a LV so high that it made it so much easier to go against a monster’s nature? That he _understood_ why he put up so many barriers?

“Yeah, I get it.” Was the empty answer that escaped his lips, serving only to reassurance the intern. “He’s not the chatty type, but that doesn’t mean he dislikes you or anything. You probably wouldn’t be here if that were the case, he’s, um, definitely the type who would tell you to “buzz off”, but in bordering on unintelligible sign language."

“ _Ooohhh_ , I actually have seen him sign that! Multiple times, too!” Inermus recalled, giggling at the memory. “He’s unintentionally funny at times, like when he tries to grab bolts and screws but they keep falling out of his... hole hands...? And when he slips in the lab and has to teleport in order to avoid crashing into any more walls- yeah, I said any more! For one that seems so mysterious and bizarre you’d think he’d be able to walk properly. Not that he _can’t_ , it’s just that he thinks about work and Angel knows what else even when he’s strolling! It’s crazy how much of a workaholic he is! And I thought I was hardworking!"

Asriel’s expression had lifted into a pleasant grin, the tautness in his shoulders gradually leaving until there was none at all. Once Inermus got into the mood he _really_ knew how to talk, and Asriel... genuinely didn’t mind. He found that he enjoyed listening to other monsters prattle, and the topic didn’t even need to be about anything remotely important. It allowed him to get a better picture of his people, whether it was a high-ranking noble or the most helpless of society he was speaking to. And the best part of it all? It didn’t require him to add his own input!

“I didn’t know Dr. Gaster was such an inadvertent comedic genius,” he quipped, letting himself wander about the ground floor... until his eyes met the elevator shaft that led into the True Lab. He stopped short in his tracks, feeling his breath hitch for a fleeting moment. “I... I don’t get to see that side of him. It’s all solemn and bewilderingly brooding Gaster for me.”

“Hmm, you may get lucky one day. Maybe if you ask nicely he’ll begrudgingly tell you a joke. Did you know that he has a really morbid sense of humour?... okay, that’s probably not that unpredictable... _but_!! He also likes- you’ll be spitting out your figurative drink for this one- dirty jokes! Yes, I know! During the first few weeks I was here I saw him and Pars were having this conversation about Rubik’s cubes and how hard they could be when Pars’ husband suddenly called him out of nowhere. So Pars apologised to Gaster and started talking to him, yeah? He told him how long until he’s done with his shift and how he might be late for their date- yada yada yada, but then he asked his husband how hard he thought Rubik’s Cubes were- just for conversation sake, I guess- and so he very indifferently responded with a “Pretty hard, I suppose. But do you know what’s harder?” He said it as loud as he could, too! Like he wanted even the humans up in the Surface to hear! And then- I kid you not!- Gaster full-on _howled_! Like, clutching his nonexistent stomach hard! And Pars’ blush could have lit up the darkest of nights, I swear!”

Caught off guard, Asriel sputtered out a choked laugh, astonished by how quickly and impressively Inermus seemed to earn his ... unanticipated boost in boldness. Where did all of _that_ come from? Was kind reassurance really all he needed? Was he ignored and looked down upon so often that his confidence fell as a result? Was the Royal Scientist actually a sucker for innuendoes??? “I... I-I uh... I don’t think that’s going to work with me, Inermus. And he... he... to put it simply, he does not trust me. At all. He barely even lets me out of his sight while I’m here, so I doubt he’s gonna be telling me puns anytime soon, especially of... that... caliber.”

“O-oh um, I see. Did I... did I go too far? I didn’t upset you, did I? ” Inermus’ inflection immediately wavered, and just like that his short-lived bravado was snuffed out like it never were there. He instinctively curled into himself, and- oh stars, was he trembling...?

Asriel stiffened, mouth opening to retort when he heard the clanks and rattles of the elevator. He stopped, and felt his voice die in his throat. A million different possibilities flashed in an instant, most so obscure it couldn’t feasibly be probable. First it was Gaster, then one of his assistants, and then Flowey, and it just kept going and going and _going_. But there was always that one in a millionth unlucky chance...

Lifting his ears, he took a step closer to shield Inermus, the crimson geraniums bound to them bouncing along with their movements, whilst Inermus- being much less apt at hearing, only blinked bemusedly at him... until he heard a silvery female voice shout from the now opened elevator door.

"Inermus? Inermus! We have a situation downstairs!”

Asriel’s stance slackened at the sound of the familiar voice, but he did not move; the figure who stepped out of the elevator was a blue bird monster he remembered to be Mabel. (thanks to Inermus mentioning her just a few minutes prior) As far as he knew she was Gaster’s first assistant, and probably the closest thing to a friend he had in here. Sh always wore a blouse and a pair of khakis beneath a lab coat two sizes too large, and had a slouch that looked borderline painful, with golden eyes the size of basketballs to match.

More specifically, golden eyes which were more than large enough to be super creepy when they're staring right at you.

If Mabel was at all surprised by Asriel’s presence, she hid it well.

Maybe _too_ well.

“Ah... good day, Prince Asriel,” Mabel bowed low in greeting, shooting him the most cordial smile she could accomplish despite the current situation. “The Doctor has yet to return, and we are preparing to shut the laboratory shortly, so it would be best if you made your swift exit. Unless... you are here for another matter?”

_Why... why did she have to sound so formal??_

“I- um, well, I am here for the Doctor, but...” He gulped, mentally clawing at his head for words to say. “I don’t mind staying with all of you, if that’s alright. It’s pretty dangerous outside right now, and I have two guards with me who could help protect you until we reach the Capital.”

“That is a kind offer,” Mabel said, still keeping up her prim front. “But it will not be needed. Won’t it, Inermus?”

When Asriel whipped his head to face the intern the first thing he saw was fear, pure, absolute fear, but it had shifted so rapidly into his habitual nervous tick that he almost shrugged it off as a trick of the light, almost being the keyword here.

Asriel would agree to being called a paranoid, distrustful monster, but he had never once allowed himself to pass off his anxieties as simple paranoia. It was well worth the risk of embarrassment, particularly when a certain lizard looked just about to grow wings and book the hell out of there.

He inhaled, and calmed himself.

“Where is Pars?”

“Downstairs, of course. Where else?” She furrowed a feathered brow, as if amused. "He will be joining us in a few short minutes. Now, let me ask again. Why are you here, if not for the Doctor?”

“It’s confidential. King’s orders and all that. I’m just passing by, promise.”

“Passing by, hmm? Then you should go your merry way then, I’m sure the King would not want you to be lingering for too long,” She kept casting subtle glances at Inermus, who refused to move from behind the prince, his own gaze instead awkwardly settling on the elevator behind her. “He must be worried for you sick!”

Something was very, very _wrong._ His SOUL sensed it.

Asriel only nodded slowly at her, emerald eyes beginning to narrow. The rigidity between them gradually rose to a boiling point, the air becoming so thick he could cut it with a knife. (he never quite understood that phrase, but it made for some dramatic writing!) He felt the splinters of another’s manifesting magic prickling at his fur, there but not quite formed. Mabel was, for some reason, preparing to defend herself, and now Asriel was certain he couldn’t back down.

What in his father’s beard was happening? Did Mabel wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and spilled coffee on herself or...?

Oh.

Oh _no_.

“M-Mabel, this isn’t like you,” He heard Inermus cut in, but his voice sounded a mile away under the crushing realisation that he desperately hoped was just spiralling consternation. “Stand down and we can all talk about this like civilised monsters. Prince Asriel is just offering his help, there’s nothing wrong with that!”

Inermus had slithered in front of Asriel, staring down at the bird monster with what looked more like a aggressive pout than a glare. “C’mon, _please_ , let’s... let’s just go back downstairs and get Pars, okay? I know you’ve been stretched thin lately, and Ginger disappearing on us has _not_ been helping in the slightest, but you gotta Persevere for just a little while longer, okay?”

Mabel did not give an answer.

“Um... Mabel...?”

Silence. Only silence.

**SOMETHING IS WRONG.**

“Mabel! Cut this out! You’re scaring me!”

**SHE IS NOT WHO YOU THINK SHE IS.**

There was a snarl.

Asriel... recognised this feeling. It made the bristles on his arms ten times more potent, and it filled the room with a scent that reeked of decaying ozone. Mabel’s magic was now fully reacting to her Intent, the pops of radiation seeming to seep from the Void itself. His nose automatically pinched at the sensation, and he looked up from his barbing paws to face...

...!

Three things happened at once.

Asriel, in a haze of totally straight thinking, charged in front of Inermus and pushed him out of harm’s way, shooting him a Determined leer. Clenching his claws into a tight fist, he then pulled purposely onto Intent’s tendrils, summoning a scorching ring that spread and encased him and Mabel in blazing flames. 

Reality shuddered into black and white, and all of the prince’s senses honed onto a single little object. A palpitating dark blue heart that swivelled out of Mabel’s chest, the only colour in a world of ink. 

She smiled, and gone was her Integrity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Author's Note:**

> Welp. I have no idea how and why I suddenly got back in the Undertale fandom, but here I am with a fanfic that I’ll hopefully not lose the motivation for. So I guess in a way this is a Reader insert, but you’ll be in the role of our SOULless skeleton buddy, Coronet! Ask any question if you like, I’ll answer as long as they don’t get to spoiler territory ;)
> 
> Oh yeah, this fic actually takes place in an AU of mine. I won’t say much other than Asriel is alive and kicking ;))
> 
> ((comments are always appreciated.
> 
> Expect rather erratic updates, as it will be the Finals in the two weeks time. But I’ll do my best!!


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